“Why do I always have to be the one who says 'stop'?" I demanded, my voice little more than a moan."You don't. In fact, at this point I'm considering a petition to that word stricken from the English language." His grin was almost lazy, the gleam in his eyes an effortless challenge. "If I did, would you sign?”

“Shoving aside fear and self-doubt, I met his eyes, aiming for absolute confidence in both my stance and my voice. “My father taught me to disarm my opponent at all costs—regardless of his choice of weapon,” I said, glancing pointedly at his groin.“Are you threatening me?”“Damn right. Lay one hand on me and you’ll never stand to pee again.”His eyes darkened, and his laugh sounded forced. “You’re very funny, gatita.”“I’m glad you think so. I’ve always considered my sense of humor to be largely under-appreciated, so it’s nice to finally meet a fan.”

“If I love you more than you love me, I'm as good as dead. Yet I can't make myself take it back. I can't just walk away from you, because every time you pass by me without smiling, without touching my hand, or at least making eye contact, it feels like I'm dying inside. And I'm pretty sure that hurts worse than whatever Marc would do to me. Whatever your dad would do. Hell, Faythe, I'm pretty sure that never touching you again would hurt worse than the nastiest death Calvin could think up for me.”

“I'm not going to lose you, Kaylee. No matter what I have to do, or whom I have to fight. Even if that means quashing your vexing tendencies toward self-sacrifice." Tod said."Did you just say 'vexing'?" Nash asked. Tod scowled. "Nothing else seemed to fit. I stand by my word choice.”

“Did he show himself?” Nash asked, and I glanced to my right to see him staring at my father, as fascinated as I was.My dad nodded. “He was an arrogant little demon.”“So what happened?” I asked.“I punched him.”For a moment, we stared at him in silence. “You punched the reaper?” I asked, and my hand fell from the strainer onto the edge of the sink.“Yeah.” He chuckled at the memory, and his grin brought out one of my own. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my father smile. “Broke his nose.”

“A minute later, Jace landed where I’d fallen, and I helped him up. “You okay?”“Hell, no.” He actually wobbled on his feet and clung to me, his face whiter than a sun-bleached Texas sidewalk. “There’s a reason cats don’t have wings.”“Yeah, but at least we always land on our feet.”“Then why did I land on my ass?”

“He was half again my size, but when we embraced, I felt like I was holding him up, and it was all I could do to remain standing. He buried his face in my hair, his body shaking against me with the spasmodic rhythm of unrestrained sobs. It was almost more than I could bear gracefully.”