I’m not a violent person, Sydney. Not at all. I’ll make love over war any day. But I swear, if they’d hurt you—” “They didn’t,” I said firmly. I refused to let him know how scared I’d been because I was afraid he might go after them. “I’m fine. You came to the rescue.” A smile played at his lips. “Something tells me you would’ve rescued yourself.” And like that, the smile vanished. “But spirit would’ve been a lot more effective than a branch.” “Your treejitsu was very effective.
Richelle MeadHe shook his head in mock sympathy. "I tell you, Sage. Sometimes I think I am the one who needs to take out the restraining order on you.
Richelle MeadYou’re a solid person, Sage. You’re easy on the eyes, if a little skinny, and your ability to memorize useless information is going to totally hook in some guy.
Richelle MeadWhen I talked to him earlier, he said he had to work tonight,” Peter explained, “but that we should go ahead and draw for him.” “Draw?” I asked uneasily. “Oh Lord. Tell me it’s not Pictionary night too.” Peter sighed wearily. “Draw for secret Santas. Do you even read the e-mails I send?” “Secret Santas? Seems like we just did that,” I said. “Yeah, a year ago,” said Peter. “Just like we do very Christmas.
Richelle MeadI opened my eyes and met his dark, earnest gaze. "It's okay," I said. "It's okay now. I'm here I'll always be here for you.
Richelle MeadI didn’t get her cutting at all. She’d done it sporadically, ever since the accident and it scared me each time. She'd try to explain it to me, how she didn't want to die—she just needed to get it out somehow. She felt so much emotionally, she would say, that a physical outlet—physical pain—was the only way to make the internal pain go away. It was the only way she could control it.
Richelle Mead