I fought against her, trying to mount some kind of defense, but it was like fighting Dimitri on crack.
I'm really not good with impulse control.
The training part," I guessed. "Yup. You're going to be Dimitri's partner." A moment of funny silence fell, probably not noticeable to anyone except Dimitri and me. Our eyes met. "Guarding partner," Dimitri clarified unnecessarily, like maybe he too had been thinking of other kinds of partners.
The other problem in my life is Dimitri. He's the one who killed Natalie, and he's a total badass. He's also pretty good-looking. Okay—more than good-looking. He's hot—like, the kind of hot that makes you stop walking on the street and get hit by traffic.
All the best, Sydney P.S. "The Red Hurricane" is what I named the car. P.P.S. Just because I like you, it doesn't mean I still don't think you're an evil creature of the night. You are.
No one had ever called me unnatural before, except for the time I put ketchup on a taco. But seriously, we'd been out of salsa, so what else was I supposed to do?
This is a, uh, friendship ring right?” “Yeah, don’t worry. If I propose, you’ll know it. For one thing, I’ll be hyperventilating.” A sly smile—surprisingly sexy—turned up his lips. “And it’ll be a ruby.” “Rubies? No diamonds? Too expensive for the old writer’s salary, huh?” He made a disparaging grunt at that. “No, I just think diamonds are common, that’s all. If I get married, it’ll be because something uncommon is occurring. Besides, you wear a lot of red, right? I know how important it is for your accessories to match.
You managed to get him a duster, but you couldn't find me a pair of jeans?
Do you love him?" There were only a few people in the world who could ask me such insanely personal questions without getting punched. Dimitri was one of them.
"Well, you've finally got a license to kill. It's about time." I turned and met the amused eyes of Christian Ozera, a onetime annoyance who'd become a good friend. So good, in fact, that in my joyous zeal, I reached out and hugged him - something he clearly didn't expect. I was surprising everyone today. "Whoa, whoa," he said backing up, flushing. "It figures. You're the only girl who'd get all emotional about the thought of killing. I don't even want to think about what goes on when you and Ivashkov are alone."
Adrian gave me a look that said I was wasting his time. "Because Jet sounds badass.
Oh," he said, knocking a red ball into a hole. "It's you." "You were expecting someone else?" I asked. "Am I interrupting your social calender?" I made a big show of glancing around the empty room. "I don't want to keep you from the mob of fans beating down your door." "Hey, a guy can hope. I mean, it's not impossible that a car full of scantily clad sorority girls might break down outside and need my help.
I decided the Alchemists needed an entire department devoted to handling Adrian Ivashkov.
They’re waiting for you. Go on in.” Adrian leaned close to Keith’s ear and spoke in an ominous voice. “If.You.Dare.” He poked Keith’s shoulder and gave a "Muhahaha” kind of monster laugh.
Rose and Dimitri moved almost as one entity, like a matched pair of wolfes or lions, both wary and deadly as they studied their surroundings, taking no detail or person for granted.
She heard Adrian say to Christian, ʺYou know, your shirtʹs kind of grungy-looking. Seems like you could put in a little more effort since youʹre dating a princess.ʺ
Iʹve seen you too. Ozera. Crispin, right?ʺ ʺChristian,ʺ corrected Lissa. ʺRight.ʺ .... ʺSo what brings you and Christopher here?ʺ asked Blake. He finished a glass of something amber colored and set it down beside the new drink. ʺChristian,ʺ said Christian. .... Blake gave her puppy-dog eyes. ʺBut you just got here! I was hoping we could get to know each other.ʺ It went without saying what he meant by that. ʺOh. And Kreskin too.
Behaviors and feelings rarely line up
There’s a big difference between death threats and love letters–even if the person writing the death threats still claims to actually love you. Of course, considering I once tried to kill someone I loved, maybe I had no right to judge.
"Well, I'm supposed to be crazy, right?" [...] "And there isn't much I wouldn't do for you. The stupider, the better."
However, he also trusted me to make my own decisions. Contradicting me or telling me what to do wasn't in his nature - even though he secretly may have wanted to.
If you touch me, I said pleasantly, "I'll provide you with the ability to see if you can heal yourself. Then we'd see how bad ass you really are."
I stared. "Canadian Satanists? You're sending me to a group of Canadian Satanists?
Stop bitching and try again.
I've given up on you...Love fades. Mine has.
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