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

Don’t take the high ground and assume you already know what you’ll do. The truth is, when it comes to someone you love, you’ll find there isn’t anything you won’t do.

Happy Birthday." Adrian came to a sudden halt. The words were soft and small, spoken tentatively, but easily discerned by vampire ears. Slowly, he turned around and found Jill Mastrano standing shyly before him.

And sometimes, if I was really, really lucky, he’d smile at me. A real smile, too—not the dry one that accompanied the sarcasm we tossed around so often. I didn’t want to admit it to anyone—not to Lissa, not even to myself—but some days, I lived for those smiles.

Adrian gave the picture a nod of approval before handing me the phone. "Okay, even I can admit that's pretty cute." I found myself overanalyzing the comment. What had he meant in saying 'even he' could admit it? That I was cute for a human? Or that I had just met some kind of Adrian hot-girl criteria?

Who’s she? Just another Ivashkov. There are tons of them. Probably because all the guys like Adrian and have all sorts of illegitimate children." "Adrian doesn’t have any children." "That we know of.

My life didnʹt need to be on the line for me to enjoy dessert.