What's going on?" I sat down on the bed and finished the last of the scone. "Bad things," she said mischievously. "You'll approve.

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

Sage?" Adrian lightly touched my arm, and I jumped at the feel of his fingertips against my skin. "You okay?" "I don't know," I said softly. "I just thought of something crazy." "Welcome to my world.

I do usually stay in the fantasy/sci-fi range, I suppose, but it has many, many subgenres that I'd love to continue exploring.

ʺWhy,ʺ he began slowly, ʺis Victor Dashkov joining us?ʺ ʺWell, itʹs kind of a funny story . . .ʺ

Rose. Roza. Open your eyes." I've never heard heard his voice so strained, so frantic. "Don't go to sleep on me. Not yet.

None of the bravado he usually showed was there. I guess there was "usually" and then there was being held in the grip of a really ripped, really tall, and really pissed off Russian guy.