We're pieces on a gameboard, Dr. March, and some of us are more powerful than others. You. Me. Her. We're the ones the gods want. We're the ones they're fighting over.

I think we got in more trouble with Aunt Tasha,ʺ said Christian. ʺShe was kind of pissed off that we didnʹt tell her what was going on. I think she probably wanted to blow up the statues herself.

He shouldn't have said that," repeated Adrian, eerily serious. He leaned his face toward mine. "I don't care if he's not the emotional type or the complimentary type or what. No one can look at you in this dress, in all that fire and gold, and start talking about anachronisms. If I were him, I would have said, 'You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen walking this earth.

Rose, I'm an addict with no work ethic who is likely going to go insane. I'm not like you. I'm not a super-hero." "Not yet," I said.

From behind Lissa, I heard Christian say, "Worst. Timing. Ever." Adrian studied Lissa and then looked at Christain sprawling on the bed on the far side of the suite. "Huh," Adrian said, letting himself in. "So that's how you're going to fix the family problem. Little Dragomirs. Good idea." Christian sat up and strolled toward them. "Yeah, that's exactly it. You're interrupting official Council business.

Okay, God, I thought. Get me out of this and I’ll stop my half-assed church-going ways. You got me past a pack of Strigoi tonight. I mean, trapping that one between the doors really shouldn't have worked, so clearly you're on board. Let me get out of here, and I’ll...I don’t know. Donate Adrian’s money to the poor. Get baptized. Join a convent. Well, no. Not that last one.

Itʹs not just the dress or the hair. Itʹs you. Youʹre beautiful. So beautiful, it hurts me.ʺ