Is he... is Dimitri a Strigoi?" Mason hesitated only a moment, like he was afraid to answer me, and then—he nodded. My heart shattered. My world shattered.

Carter leaned toward me and brushed the hair away from the side of my face. "Don't look down then," he whispered.

No," he said, voice thick and husky. His fingers dug into the chair's arms. "You'd better not get too close." I stopped, laughing softly. "You don't strike me as the assaulting type, Mortensen." "Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything.

Vampires. Honestly, they're like children sometimes.

Sage," he said. "What are you wearing?" I sighed and stared down at the dress. "I know. It's red. Don't start. I'm tired of hearing about it." "Funny," he said. "I don't think I could ever get tired of looking at it.

You see something you like?

Sydney had been horrified to discover my home library consisted of a bartending dictionary and an old copy of Esquire, and at her pleading, I'd promised to read something more substantial. I was trying to think deep thoughts as I read Gatsby, but mostly I wanted to throw some parties.