Abe shook his head, and now the smile was gone altogether. "That's not the reason either. Don't lie to me little girl." I felt my hackles going up. "And don't interrogate me, old man.

Rosemarie you are out of line

I saw endless depths of brown, the depths I'd fallen into so many times. No red rings. Dimitri...was not a Strigoi. And he was weeping.

I clung to that spark of hope, nurturing it into a small flame that chased some of the shadows in my heart away.

So. You’re saying my sister’s dressed like a prostitute

And I figured you'd drive a four-hour round-trip before giving up your car to someone else

What was love, really? Flowers, chocolate, and poetry? Or was it something else? Was it being able to finish someone's jokes? Was it having absolute faith that someone was there at your back? Was it knowing someone so well that they instantly understood why you did the things you did—and shared those same beliefs?