“And I knew that tone, the pleading, the fear that was sitting like a spiked ball in his chest. He'd been left behind too, maybe more than I had.”

“Fury ignited behind my breastbone , a hot glow like coals blooming into something sharp and dangerous. It was the same old crap- someone thinking they can push you around because you're young, because you're helpless. You had to just sit there and take it because you were under a certain number , because you weren't a real person yet; you could be picked up and dropped like a toy, left behind or thrown away...”

“Dylan sighed. Some days he sighed more than others, and some days it seems like he did nothing but. He had a face that could have been on a Roman coin, and I'd heard his real name was something unpronouncable and Goth. Not like black-lipstick-and-angst, but actual barbarian.”

“Why do you suppose Scarabus had to hide his sister?" I just knew I was going to say something snide. "For snacking later?"There were a couple of gasps, one horrified chuckle, and several snorts.”

“My voice wouldn't work right. I made a tiny nod instead, because - how's this for weird? - I didn't want him to let go of me. He'd pulled back a little, with just his lower half, and I was afraid the scorch in my cheeks would set fire to the rest of me, because I had an idea why. Wow. Oh, wow.”

“I crossed my arms over my chest. Jeez, it was cold in here all of a sudden. And had he always smelled this good? Was it a cologne? Eau de Christmas Pie?”

“I wished Graves would look at me. But he just stood there, glaring out from under his hair. I'm sure he could have painted fuck-off on his forehead and it would have been more subtle.”