“Jerome shrugged. “We’re back to the part where I don’t give a fuck.”

“Please don’t get sentimental,” said Jerome. “It’s nauseating.”

“So don’t. Take him with you. Or date long distance. I honestly don’t give a fuck, so long as you stop your whining. How can you not see solutions here? You’ve apparently decided that you being immortal isn’t a deterrent to your great love . . . but a two-hour plane ride is?”

“Mentor’s Official and Complete Procedural Handbook on Initial Succubus Intake and Probationary Period (Abridged).“Abridged?” I spun toward Jerome. “Tell me you’re getting back at me for the time I accused you of wearing Old Spice.”“That one’s still coming,” said the demon. “This one’s for real.”

“Do what? Come up with a clever pun referencing Jerome's demonic status? The truth is, I usually keep a stash of them on hand and—”

“I couldn't stop staring at the cave, back where Dimitri was, back where half of my soul was.”

“He shrugged. "The same as any other. It's a way to make people feel better about themselves. Everyone likes feeling special. Being part of an elite group is a way to do that." "But you weren't part of it?" "No need. I already know I'm special.”