Melanie still grieves for Jared," she stated. I felt my head nod without willing the action. "You grieve for him." I closed my eyes. "The dreams continue?" "Every night," I mumbled. "Tell me about then." Her voice was soft, persuasive. "I don't like to talk about them." "I know. Try. It might help." "How? How will it help to tell you that I see his face every time I close my eyes? That I wake up and cry when he's not there? That the memories are so strong I can't separate hers from mine anymore?

I was a vampire, and she had the sweetest blood I’d smelled in eighty years.

Real. Does that make me imaginary?

I felt like - like I don't know what. Like this wasn't real. Like I was in some Goth version of a bad sitcom. Instead of being the A/V dweeb about to ask the head cheerleader to the prom, I was the finished-second-place werewolf about to ask the vampire's wife to shack up and procreate. Nice. - Jacob

I don't want you to leave Which is exactly why I should. But don't worry. I'm essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should.

Do you like scary stories? he asked ominously. Jacob Black

And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.