Uh, yeah, I do. The scythe was a little tricky at first, but—much like golf—turns out it’s all in the swing.

What if I was the sexual equivalent of popcorn? Suitable for light snacking only?

If she were going to die, I'd already be screaming. I'm a female bean sidhe. That's what we do.

I want to kiss you.” Jace’s whisper pulled me from my thoughts and I glanced up to find his eyes blazing with raw need. “Just because Marc won’t touch you doesn’t mean I shouldn’t. Right? I don’t have that kind of self-control, and honestly, I don’t see the point in it. Are you supposed to be impressed by how long we can go without touching you? ’Cause if that’s the game we’re playing, I think I’d rather lose.

What took you so long?” Nash asked, as he slid into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed. “I stopped to donate all your underwear to the homeless. You’re gonna wanna take care of those tighty whities—they’re all you’ve got left.” He leaned against the door, either too tired or too drunk to sit up. “And to think, most people don’t understand your sense of humor.” “Fools, all of them.

I laughed and it almost felt good. "Is that a dig at my liquor cabinet?" Cam smiled. "That wasn't liquor, it was swill. And that wasn't a cabinet, it was a drawer.

Nash has been the sun lighting up the horizon of my life, outshining everything else in my world. I'd thought once that he was to good to be true. Turns out I was right.