Hang on, Pa, don't reach for yer shotgun just yet," I said, grinning over the protective streak I found funny, when there wasn't actually anything to shelterme from. "We were just circlin' the wagons, not having an orgy." My dad suddenly looked like he might be sick. "Please don't ever say that word again." "Wagons?
Rachel VincentI mean, creatures who only exist in the dark don't know they're missing the sun, right? But once you've seen the sun. Once you've seen it light up the world ... once you've felt its heat all around you ... inside you ..." He clutched his own chest, and my heart cracked open. "Its hard to live in the dark after the sun dies.
Rachel VincentI want you. I want you so badly I canโt stand it. When you left, it felt like the world got darker. Like I couldnโt truly see anything. Couldnโt feel anything.
Rachel VincentYour mortal attachments are like a puppetโs 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!
Rachel VincentVanity, right?" Nash reappeared in the living room with an open bag of potato chips. "I nominate my venerable brother. He likes to play hero, and one look at him should establish the vanity angle." "Nash!" I really shouldn't have been surprised by the dig. But I was. "What?" He raised one brow at me in challenge. "It's okay to call me jealous, but not to call him vain?" "Awareness of one's obvious advantages doesn't imply vanity," Tod insisted calmly. Nash turned on him. "Does it imply narcissism?" Tod huffed. "This coming from the guy who owns more hair products than his girlfriend.
Rachel VincentYou should be careful, tossing descriptors like that around in a situation like this. My โproblemโ isnโt little. Unless youโre drawing some pretty wild comparisons. Please tell me youโre not drawing wild comparisons. Or blood-relative comparisons.
Rachel VincentI squeezed my eyes shut and took several deep breaths, trying not to smell Jace in front of me, not to taste him on my lips. But it was useless. In that moment, Jace was everywhere. He was in my mind, he was in my heart, and he was in my memory. He smelled good. He tasted good. And the blissful aftershock still throbbing in my most sensitive places felt wonderful, when everything else in my life was an obstacle to be overcome.
Rachel Vincent