When mice run, cats give chase.

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.

Most aspects of my training didn’t agree with me. There wasn’t as much bossing around as I’d hoped for, and there was way too much following orders.

Tod's eyes widened, and his irises swirled in tight twists of blue. "Well, I don't see that I have much of a choice, considering that's part of Reaper Law." "There's a Reaper Law?" "Of course. 'A reaper is Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous...'" He shrugged. "It gets boring after that. But this situation is clearly covered under the 'helpful' category." I rolled my eyes. "I think that's the Boy Scout law." "They took it from us. But they left out all the good stuff.

I grabbed another. Aerosmith. Nope, can’t throw classic Aerosmith. I snatched a copy of the Thompson Twins’ greatest hits and chucked it at him.

He sank into that kiss, and fed from me like a starving man holding off famine. I drank from his soul in preparation for the drought to come. And when he finally pulled away, my throat was thick with unspoken words, my heart heavy with every apology I'd ever denied him. But it was too late for promises. The time had come for goodbye.

Why do you hang out with him?" "We're teammates." Ahhh. And if blood was thicker than water, then football, evidently, would congeal in one's veins.