“That night had been the first time I’d felt alive, the adrenaline and endorphins making my body, still recovering from disease, feel…normal. It was then that I realized I’d risk anything to feel that way all the time—and most days, I did.”

“I didn’t like this. I didn’t like this at all. I had been worried about Al trashing a bar. What if he showed up here amid Cincy’s finest citizens and its most helpless orphans? I’d be lynched.”

“I felt sick. Buying Kisten’s and my safety from Piscary was so wrong. But it was either that or deal with a demon, and I’d rather keep my soul clean and let my morals get dingy.”

“..."We were the pair. One too afraid to feel anything lest she lose control of her ironclad hold on her emotions, and the other so hungry to feel anything that she´d risk her free will for one night of fun."...”

“He looked at me, eyebrows high and the sun glinting on his disguise-black hair. “You do the damnedest things in order to rile yourself up. Most people settle for doing it in an elevator, but not you. No, you have to make sure it’s a vampire you’re playing kissy-face with.” Heat washed through me, pulled by anger and embarrassment. Ivy had said the same thing. “I do not!” “Rache,” he cajoled, sitting up to match my posture. “Look at yourself. You’re an adrenaline junkie. You not only need danger to make good in the bedroom, you need it to get through your normal day.” “Shut up!” I shouted, giving him a backhanded thwack on his shoulder. “I like adventure, that’s all.”

“The memory of him tracing the lines of my face filled me. I remembered the touch of his sensitive fingers, following my jawline, running down my neck to follow the curves of my body. I remembered his warmth, his laughter, and his eyes sparkling when I twisted a phrase to mean something entirely new and naughty. I remembered the way he made me feel needed, appreciated for who and what I was, never having to apologize for it, and the contentment I found in sharing ourselves. We’d been happy together. It had been great.”

“Worried, I touched the jacket’s sleeve. “You think it’s too much?” I asked, working hard to keep my tone non-combative. I’d had this conversation with ex-roommates before.”