I'm guessing whatever 'ways' you have in mind aren't Jill-appropriate either." "Put your books away and I'll show you.

Oh God," I said. "I'm Zmey's daughter. Zmey junior. Zmeyette, even.

What, are you doing? Aside from getting your sandwich cold." "I’m making a snow angel. Don’t you know what that is?" "Yes, I know. But why? You must be freezing." "Not so much, actually. My face is a little, I guess.

See? Things are already looking promising.

Wine's terrible for babies." Dorian swept into the sitting room to join me, elegantly arranging himself on a love seat that displayed his purple velvet robes to best effect. "Well of course it is. I'd never dream of giving wine to an infant! What do you take me for, a barbarian? But for you... well, it might go a long way to make you a little less jumpy. You've been positively unbearable to live around. "I can't have it either. It affects the babies in utero.

Who is he?" "An idiot, said Adrian. "Makes me look like an upstanding member of society.

I couldn't stop staring at the cave, back where Dimitri was, back where half of my soul was.