“Do my questions annoy you?”He glanced at her, his surprise evident. “No. I’m far too vain to object; I am my favorite topic.”

“Not only am I not my dad’s favorite child—I’m his only child.”

“Magnus's eyes went back to Alec. They were gold-green, as unreadable as the eyes of the cat he held on his lap. "Not my favorite topic, Smedley.""Simon", said Simon. "If I'm going to die for you all, the least you could do is remember my name.”

“I’m a succubus.”He shook his head. “No, you aren’t.”“Yes, I am.”“You aren’t.”I was a bit surprised to be having this conversation. “I am too.”“No. Succubi are flame-eyed and bat-winged. Everyone knows that. They don’t wear jeans and sweaters.”

“He locked eyes with her and she felt goosebumps on her arms. Then, he dipped in closer, his mouth inches away. 'The one you like best. That's my favorite. My favorite thing is making you feel good.”

“I’m,” he swallowed thickly, unsure of why he wanted-no needed to explain hisbehavior to her. “I am not comfortable amongst the ton. I’m a solitary person, I keep my own counsel, and prefer to do so.”“You’re lonely.”He stopped then, shocked by her words, by her perception of him. He’d madehimself vulnerable, let himself weaken as her soft body melded with his. She saw too much, knew too much.“This,” he said, his voice cracking with desire, with the pain of what he knew he must do. “I can’t….”“Just let me in,” she whispered.“I’m afraid you would not like what you see.”“Trust me,” she said, her tempting mouth only inches away from his.-Blaine and Madeline.”