Those who have to ask if faith is true are opening up a discussion they may not be ready for.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. I didn't care that we were out in public. I didn't care that he was Moroi. All that mattered was that he was Adrian, my Adrian. My match. My partner in crime.

I nearly dropped the plate I held. "You've asked me out tons of times." "Not really. I've made inapproprite suggestions and frequently pushed for nudity. But I've never asked you out on a real date. And, if memory serves, you did say you'd give me a fair chance once I let you clean out my trust fund." "I didn't clean it out," I scoffed.

Metaphors. This was the cost of making out with an artist.

Sometimes talking to you is like talking to myself: pretty damned annoying.

It'd be nice to have someone who understood some of the things that went on in my head.

Despite his cynical exterior, he had a good heart-and Lissa owned most of it.