Rachel Vincent is an American author best known for her Shifters series, a present-day urban fantasy series about a female werecat.
Marc didn’t want to win by default. He wanted to win for real. Forever.
There was just no good way for a dead son to greet his mother almost two weeks after his funeral.
You're the brightest thing I've ever seen, Kaylee. You're this beautiful ball of fire spitting sparks out at the world, burning fiercely, holding back the dark by sheer will. And I always knew that if I reached out -- if i tried to touch you -- I'd get burned. Because you're not mine. I'm not supposed to feel the fire. I'm not supposed to want it. But I do. I want you, Kaylee, like I've never wanted anything. Ever. I want the fire. I want the heat, and the light, and I want the burn.
I don't have you, and without you, it feels like what I do have doesn't matter.
I want you. I want only you. I want all of you. But I'll take whatever you're ready to give.
Even before the withdrawal sets in, you'll do anything to get that feeling back, because as long as it lasts, nothing's wrong. It doesn't matter if you forget something, or lose something. Or if you fail someone. Nothing's wrong and everything feels good, and you never want it to end.
I was fine with that. The very idea of Death knowing my name made my skin crawl. Even if this particular Death was only one of many, and almost too pretty to look at.
I should have said something. . . . But my mouth wouldn't open, and the longer I stood there in silence, the better I can to understand the problem. It wasn't that I had nothing to say to him. It was that I had too much to say.
The school sent you flowers. I’m sure that totally makes up for the fact that they hired the psychotic, soul-stealing pedophile who murdered you in your own home.
Meow, Meow, Motherfucker.
How does Parker’s body compare with yours ” Great. A pop quiz I thought recognizing his transition into lecture mode. “How does Parker’s body compare with mine Hmm. ” I gave Parker a quick theatrical once-over and he smiled clearly catching on to my line of thought. “Nice legs and killer biceps. But I have better boobs. No question.
Just FYI, in your case, I think it’s okay to fear the reaper.
Eastlake High makes Buffy's hellmouth look like a crack in the sidewalk.
It's suspiciously quiet in here, and there's a Tod shaped dent in the bean bag. For the sake of both my sanity and my temper, I'm going to pretend I can't tell that you're in his lap, so could you pretend that this is still my house and you are still my daughter, and I'm within my parental rights to kick your boyfriend out after 11:00 p. m. ?
Come on, Kaylee, before I choke on testosterone and melodrama.
I’d learned that my mother was a badass in disguise. She was Van Helsing in an apron and heels, and—at least for the time being—I couldn’t think of a single thing cooler than that.
"You already said that," Sabine said, folding the wrapper back from her burger. "You said it a lot, actually. Which supports my theory that apologies are basically pointless. They don't fix anything, right? That's why I rarely bother. "
You don't know me. Don't ever think you know me. The only things you know about me are the things you made me do, and that illustrates your character, not mine.
His safety was more important than anything to me. Even if he would never know enough to understand that.
"He's lying, Kay," Nash said, fists clenched at his sides. "Hellions can't lie, but we all know reapers can. " "Careful, pot," Tod said. "Someone might notice your resemblance to the kettle. "