“The pink rose Zayvion had given me looked a little worse for the wear, but it wasn't dead yet. Tough flowers, roses.”

“So, the date was on. I’d tell Zayvion I had a chaperone. Maybe he could help me figure it out.”

“Zayvion swore, and I mean he pulled out a raft of curses that made me rethink his upbringing.”

“Zayvion and I had an agreement that we were going to give this relationship everything we could. And that included trust, faith, and honesty. Not a single one of which was among my strong points.”

“Aspirin?” I asked. It came out sounding a lot like ass spoon, but Zayvion seemed fluent in mumbleze.”

“Oh, I was so not a wilting flower. I’d let a man pick me up and carry me because I couldn’t handle the price of using magic when I was dead. Again.”

“My voice rose up and up with each question, even though I didn’t want it to. It’s called panic. I’m good at it.”