It's okay," I said soothingly. "You're just getting your stride back. Once you're up to full power, I'll go crack a rib or something so we can test it." She groaned. "The horrible part is that I don't think you're joking.

You made your own jean shorts...with a butter knife?

Feel guilty. Mourn this. But move on. Don't let it destroy you. Forgive yourself.

Our gazes locked, so much passing between us. In those moments, I wasn't in a tent with him, on the run from those who regarded us as villains. There was no murderer to catch, no Strigoi trauma to overcome. There was just him and me and the feelings that had burned between us for so long.

I saw something in his pretty green eyes that I had never seen before: Anger. They were like emerald fire

You did not just say that. I have a feeling we're on the verge of hugging and coming up with cute nicknames for each other.

Carter leaned toward me and brushed the hair away from the side of my face. "Don't look down then," he whispered.