Our gazes locked, so much passing between us. In those moments, I wasn't in a tent with him, on the run from those who regarded us as villains. There was no murderer to catch, no Strigoi trauma to overcome. There was just him and me and the feelings that had burned between us for so long.

A different word usually came to my mind when I thought of Yeva, though it did sound a lot like “witch.

Moroi shied from the sunlight but as I watched Sydney, I knew without a doubt that humans had been made for the sun.

Are you kidding? He's arrogant, sarcastic, likes to intimidate people, and—oh." Okay. Maybe she had a point.

This was the last thing I expected. You destroy my life and then feed me some inspiratonal philosophy.

Was Deirdre right about me purposely wanting relationships that were impossible?

His fingertips slid down from my face, lightly stroking the line of my neck, down toward my shoulder. Everywhere he touched, a trail of goose bumps appeared. How did he keep doing this to me? Marcus—who made every girl in the world swoon—had zero effect on me. But one whisper of a touch from Adrian completely undid me.