“What the hell was that supposed to mean anyway? I'm yours. My what? My slave, my guardian angel, my own personal pain in the ass?”

“You're a guardian angel now." I was still too much in awe to wrap my mind around it, but at the same time I felt amazement, curiosity...happiness."I'm your guardian angel," he said."I get my very own guardian angel? What, exactly, is your job description?""Guard your body." His smile tipped higher. "I take my job seriously, which means I'm going to need to get acquainted with the subject matter on a personal level.”

“You’re a guardian angel now.”...."I’m your guardian angel,” he said.“I get my very own guardian angel? What, exactly, is your job description?”“Guard your body.” His smile tipped higher. “I take my job seriously, which means I’m going to need to get acquainted with the subject matter on a personal level.”

“Miranda: You say you were my guardian angel. Does that mean you watched me all the time? Like when I got my period or doctored a zit or took a shower or-Zachary: I'm an angel, not a Peeping Tom.”

“I kept traveling down the road. And everywhere it was the same. What was my name, who were my people? What was I supposed to say? That my father is the president, and my mother is his slave?”

“Be then my slave, and know what it means to be delivered into the hands of a woman.”