Tod's pale brows arched halfway up his forehead, and he looked suddenly, achingly wistful. "She knows not what she says..."
Maybe not. But I was starting to get a pretty good idea...
Mots clés young-adult young-adult-fiction rachel-vincent
Justice is for the victim.” Kick. “Vengeance is for the survivor.
Rachel VincentMots clés faythe-sanders
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You deserve better than me,” I whispered, and the selfish part of me hoped he wouldn’t hear.
He heard.
Marc spun me around so fast I would have slipped again if he weren’t holding me up. We were so close drops of water from his chin fell onto my chest, and I had to crane my neck to see him.
“You are perfect for me, Faythe, just like you are, because you’re not perfect. You’re headstrong, and impulsive, and outspoken, and I’m possessive, and overprotective, and too easy to piss off. We’re both wrong for a lot of things, but we’re right for each other. Do you understand?”
I nodded. I didn’t know what else to do.
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The other three incoming calls were from his building superintendent, his pharmacy and a telephone survey company."
"Bastards. They always call during dinner."
Liv laughed as I slid the sliced steak onto a platter and topped it with sautéed vegetables. "Forget crime lords and corrupt politicians - telemarketers are the root of all evil."
"Now you're getting it.
His name's Nash."
Aunt Val took a butter knife from the silverware drawer. "What year is he?"
I groaned inwardly. "Senior." ...here we go ...
Her smile was a little too enthusiastic. "Well that's wonderful!"
Of course, what she really meant was "Rise from the shadows, social leper, and walk in the bright light of acceptance!
This isn't about you...."
"Well, it should be!" he shouted, and I flinched. "Everything I do is about you, and I want the reverse to be true, too." I wiped more tears, my throat aching with words that would only make this worse.
"What, you need a reminder? That's what he was doing, right? And now you smell like him. You probably taste like him. You should taste like me..."
He was on me before I could even catch my breath...
Mots clés jace shifters faythe marc
So what does Tod look like? Whitewashed skeleton skulking around in a black cape and hood? Carrying a scythe? 'Cause I'm thinking that would cause mass panic in the hospital." ..... "Do you chase after a funeral processions in a long, dirty dress, hair trailing behind you in the wind? I shot him a mock frown. "Have you been following me again?
Rachel VincentGreat. "So not only am I not-human, but Death is my arch foe?" Who, me? Panic? "Anything else you want to tell me, while we're confessing?
Rachel VincentYou two are cracked," Tod snapped.
My smile widened. "Says the undead man in love with the soulless pop star.
You should be careful, tossing descriptors like that around in a situation like this. My ‘problem’ isn’t little. Unless you’re drawing some pretty wild comparisons. Please tell me you’re not drawing wild comparisons. Or blood-relative comparisons.
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