Och, Dani my darling, you're not giving me a single reason to wait for you to grow up. You're giving me a thousand reasons not to." It's Christian! I'm so glad it's him, not one of the other princes! I turn around in his arms and tip my head back. "Hi, Christian!" I beam at him. He's hotter than the other princes. I'm glad I got him. I'll take the others, too, but I want him first. "I want to grow up. Now. Hurry.
I make a new discovery that totally blows; dying is the easy part. It's coming back to life that sucks.
A wing or a thigh? Ah, I'm afraid we don't have any thighs left.
What are you" -Mac "I don't follow" -Jericho "You dropped 30 feet in that warehouse. You should have broken something. What are you?" -Mac "A man with a rope." -Jericho
I flash him number seventeen of my thirty-five Looks of Death.
Punch me." "Don't be absurd." "Come on, punch me, Barrons." "I'm not punching you." "I said, punch--OW!" He decked me.
Barrons: "He got upset it wouldn't shut up and tore its head off." Mac: "The child?" I gasped
Lose the pessimism, Ms. Lane. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.
A little blood never bothers me.
He is my vulnerability
The White Mansion isn't boring, lass. Never boring. It's the grand demesne the Unseelie King built for his concubine. It's a living, breathing love story, testament to the brightest passion that ever burned between our races. You can follow the scenes through if you've time enough and are willing to risk getting lost for a few centuries.
When Christian pushes into the brick wall of the building catty-corner to the rear of BB&B—first left on the Dark Zone side—and disappears, I melt down in a fit of the giggles. I toss a rock at the spot where he vanished. It bounces off the brick and clatters to the cobblestone. I'm feeling twenty shades of Harry Potter's train station, especially when he pokes his head out of the wall and says impatiently, "Come on, lass. This is hardly my favorite place to be.
Holy borrowing bibliophile, let's book!
I get off on a man with strong moral fiber. The closest Barrons ever gets to fiber is walking down the cereal aisle at the grocery store.
Born in a generation that thinks cynical and disenchanted is cool, sometimes I'm a little off the beaten track.
The kiss....was not meant to seduce, it was meant to mark a woman's soul. Chloe
I can't help but see myself in them. The Seelie are who I was before my sister died. Pink, pretty, frivolous Mac. The Unseelie are who I've become, carved by loss and despair. Black, grungy, driven Mac.
I'm not the hero, Mac. Never have been. Never will be. Let us be perfectly clear: I'm not the antihero, either, so quit waiting to discover my hidden potential. There's nothing to redeem me.
One day you do meet a man who kisses you and you can’t breathe around it and you realize you don’t need air. Oxygen is trivial. Desire makes life happen. Makes it matter. Makes everything worth it. Desire is life. Hunger to see the next sunrise or sunset. To touch the one you love. To try again.
I'm not good, Mac. Never have been.' What-true confession time? my eyes tease. Don't need it. 'I want what I want and I take it.' Is he warning me? What could he possibly threaten me with now? 'There's nothing I can't live with. Only things I won't live without.
We will K‘Vruck the world.
people were just out of control! . . . They've all got cell phones stuck to their ears and yet I've never seen such distance between people trying so hard to be close.
Dude, got eyes? I'm collecting evidence." [...] "In Ziploc bags." "I think they're Glad." "They look impartial to me.
How does it feel, MacKayla? You have a piece of me in your mouth. Would you like another?
He lives. I breathe. I want. Him. Always. Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever. -Mac
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