That's pretty weird—and when I say something's weird, you know it's serious.

Really, it's my fault. It was there. A hundred times there. How often did I see it? I knew. It kept happening. Over and over, you'd say you were through with him...and over and over, I'd believe it...no matter what my eyes showed me. No matter what my heart told me. My. Fault.

I decided the Alchemists needed an entire department devoted to handling Adrian Ivashkov.

You forget: I have an addictive personality. I'm addicted to you. Somehow I think you could do all sorts of bad things to me, and I'd still come back to you. Just keep things honest, okay? Tell me what you're feeling. If you're feeling something for Dimitri that's confusing you, tell me. We'll work it out.

There are little gems all around us that can hold glimmers of inspiration.

Okay. Now you have to move your arms and legs.” “I know how to make a snow angel.” “Then do it! Otherwise, you’re more like a chalk outline at a police crime scene.

You can't," I murmured, swallowing the tears back with great effort. "You can't keep saving me, can't keep trying to. It's too late." "No," he said. His heart was in his eyes, and it was ripping mine apart. "Not for you. Never.