I had no reason to get all goofy, just because the man was too good-looking for his own good.

But I didn't know about the other story." "What other story?” "About how you and Adrian Ivashkov are—" "No, whatever you heard it’s not true." "But it was really romantic" "Then it’s definitely not true.

I saw endless depths of brown, the depths I'd fallen into so many times. No red rings. Dimitri...was not a Strigoi. And he was weeping.

It’s as easy as we choose to make it,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. “At least, this decision is. Nothing’s truly easy, Georgina. Love and life . . . they’re wonderful, but they’re hard. We may mess up again. We have to be strong and decide if we can still go forward, even when things aren’t perfect.

That memory made a lump form in my throat as I remembered his face, serious and gorgeous, those brown eyes intense and passionate as he spoke up for me and convinced the others of my value.

I wanted someone a little more approachable," I explained. "What, like Captain McTropicalShorts back there? Where on earth did you find him anyway?" "Just did an Internet search." Feeling a need to defend my research, I added, "He comes highly recommended." "By who? Long John Silver?

I’m not dangerous,” I breathed. He brought his face toward mine. “You are to me.” And somehow, against all reason, we were kissing.