I nodded, chewing my own syrup-soaked bite. "But surely that's not all there is to it. I mean, really? A big picnic? That's Avari's master plan? That makes him sound about as dangerous as Yogi Bear." Tod shrugged. "Yeah. If Yogi were a soul-sucking, body-stealing, boyfriend-snatching, damned-soul-torturing evil demon from another world. Besides, what else could he be planning?

I fell into that kiss like Alice into Wonderland, headfirst and flailing, heart pounding the whole time. The world spun around me and still I fell, and I only crashed down to earth again when someone called my name.

Chocolate says "I'm sorry" so much better than words.

So, 'reaper' is really just a nice word for 'covert pervert?' Is that what you're saying?

I'd just stepped out of the kiddie pool and into the deep end, with no floaties. And drowning was not an option.

It was an addiction. A pointless, self-destructive addiction. But really, is there any other kind?

So could we please not mob the three-thousand-plus-year-old reaper like tweens at a boy-band concert?