“She wanted to tell him she'd never pick any of those other three billion guys, because he was all she wanted. He was her freak, and she'd love him forever.”

“She never strayed far from him though, and if she looked around and didn't see him right away, he saw a look of panic in her blue eyes.”

“His hand around hers was strong and warm, and in spite of her confusion and hesitation, she never wanted to let go.”

“Was he serious? Why would she be meant for a guy from Hell? If there was such a thing as destiny, she was supposed to find a quiet, smart guy, one who wasn't over six feet tall, with midnight hair and a face she couldn't stop staring at. He'd be Russian Orthodox. Or Episcopalian. He might even be Jewish. But he wouldn't be from Hell.”

“He'd waited a thousand years for her, and she would know him for less than two weeks.”

“They stood together, arms wrapped tight, listening to the wind through the pines while snow fell softly all around. This was one of those moments in life she knew she’d never forget.He moved his head so that his lips were close to her ear. “Run, Sasha. If you can do it, run like hell and don’t look back.”Her breath came in short little gasps. “I don’t want to run.”

“She tried not to slip her arms beneath his trench coat, or spread her palms across his broad, muscular back, or inhale the delicious scent of him, or rest her cheek against his hard, warm chest. She tried. And failed.”