I have choices," I insisted, refusing to break eye contact. "We both do. I may have to make mine carefully, and make a few compromises along the way, but I have a choice. I choose you.

He’s not like you, Tod. Aside from a couple of notable exceptions, you tend to think things through, but Nash is ruled by his heart—

Marc/Faythe/Jace love triangle moment: "This isn't about you...." "Well, it should be!" he shouted, and I flinched. "Everything I do is about you, and I want the reverse to be true, too." I wiped more tears, my throat aching with words that would only make this worse. "What, you need a reminder? That's what he was doing, right? And now you smell like him. You probably taste like him. You should taste like me..." He was on me before I could even catch my breath.

"Levi will kill me the minute he sees me, and I don't trust Madeline. There's something in her eyes..." "I believe that's integrity and dedication in her job." "Yeah. It's disturbing."

I live to serve. except the part about living...

Your mortal attachments are like a puppet’s strings," Avari said, both hands clasped casually at his back. "One need only pluck the right cord to make the puppet dance." His smile was almost creepier than his threats. "Dance, reaper!

Marc’s hand tightened visibly around Kevin’s fingers, his digits going white. Again. Both men clenched their jaws, Kevin in pain, and Marc in an obvious effort to control his temper and keep from breaking Kevin’s hand. Off. Why couldn’t guys find a more original way to test each other’s manly prowess? Arm wrestling might have been more subtle. Or maybe comparing the length of their…canines.