I certainly hadn't expected to walk away from today's trip with joint custody of a miniature dragon.

One of the few downsides to being awakened is that we no longer require sleep; therefore we also no longer dream. It's a shame, because if I could dream, I know I'd dream about you.

So, tell me this: suppose you manage to kidnap her again and take her off to the mall. While you're there a Strigoi comes at you. What will you do? Depends on what store we're in.

We’re suckers for this, Sydney. Men. You’ve got me completely helpless right now. You’re so beautiful and alluring, and we guys can’t help ourselves. We fight wars for you, cajole you . . . and you put up with us. We have it easy here in bed.” She turned my face toward hers. “This wasn’t exactly difficult for me.” “But we still have it easy. You’re the strength, the pillars . . . our defenders, our children’s defenders.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. I didn't care that we were out in public. I didn't care that he was Moroi. All that mattered was that he was Adrian, my Adrian. My match. My partner in crime.

Kill me, Doug. Just kill me now. Put me out of my misery.” “Christ, Kincaid, what did you say to him?” murmured Doug. “Well,” I told Doug, “I ripped on his fans and on how long it takes for his books to come out.” Doug stared at me, his expectations exceeded. “Then I said—not knowing who he was—that I’d be Seth Mortensen’s love slave in exchange for advanced copies of his books.

Conversation was irrelevant. Only pie mattered.