“Oh yeah, I'd almost forgot. Forneus was beautiful, with purple hair, purple eyes and a smile that could probably only be described as devastating. Not that I'd ever seen such a smile, or wanted to. After watching him rot and ooze blood on top of my mom's oven in his "true" form and learning that he'd tried to drag me off to Hell, he'd lost a bit of his sex appeal.”

“No one looks like Fang-dark and still and dangerous, like he's daring you to set him off. But I'd seen him rocking Angel when she'd hurt herself; I'd seen him smile in his sleep; I'd seen the deep, darkl ight in his eyes as he leaned over me... ~Max; "Max"; page 24”

“Head's all empty, I don't care,' he'd sing to me, quoting the Grateful Dead, and I'd force a smile, thinking that my head was never empty and that if it ever was, you could be darn sure I'd care.”

“He'd give anything to be out there playing instead of standing here watching. Trying to maintain this smile out of respect. He digs into his wrists some more with his nails. Breaks previously broken skin and pulls away. A smear of blood he wipes away with his other hand, rubs off across his dark jeans. Back home his mom is always on him to stop digging, but that only makes him want to dig more."-exerpt from "Mexican White Boy”

“He was sitting not far away, watching me, and I surprised a smile on his face, the first real smile I had ever seen him give, a smile that curved and softened the tight mouth, and warmed the ice-cool eyes; a smile that brought the blood to my face and made my heart turn over.”

“I'd convinced myself it would have been different if he'd been as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside, but he wasn't. He was cruel beauty, a sculpture, a god, and I couldn't tear my eyes from him. I'd seen his expression soften in the dungeon with the whip. I'd do anything to have him look at me like that again, no matter how insane he was.”