Words have power? That sounds like you’re into some Harry Potter juju.
Vamps are really only like ten percent fun at any given time. The other ninety percent is largely fretting. And bloodletting.
But there was a cost. Being near Ethan was just... incendiary. Part animosity, part ridiculous chemistry, neither conducive to a peaceful home environment. And this was only my first night under his thumb. Not a good sign of things to come.
Imagine a landscape of nothing but astrology references and naughty limericks. That’s what you’re going to reduce me to.
Supernatural healing was a handy trick for an absentminded vampire, although it would make my enemies harder to kill. Tit for tat, I guess.
Only a four-hundred-year-old vampire would wonder if a grad student could understand procrastination.
They’ll respect deeds, Ethan, not words.
Every time I breathe, I breathe for you. Every time I speak, I speak for you. And every time I howl, I howl for you.
You’re my world,” he said, putting down the glass. “You’re mine to protect.
He humphed and grabbed a carton of milk, then chugged directly from the cardboard spout. Mallory and I watched him, the same grimace on both our faces. Sure, I did the same thing with OJ, but he was a boy, and it was milk. That was just gross.
Sweet and geeky Jeff, lover of games, knew how to move.
I walked inside and paused for a moment to breathe in the scent of paper and dust – the perfumes of knowledge.
Because I love you. Because love, to some, is a weakness. A pressure point. Because I would give up anything for you, including the GP. And because I don’t mean to give up either.
I will have both of you,” he said. “My Sentinel and my city. And the GP will learn exactly how stubborn we both can be.
Every time I breathe, I breathe for you. Every time I speak, I speak for you. And every time I howl, I howl for you.” He pressed his lips to mine, so softly. “This isn’t over,” he said, and walked inside.
Sometimes life is about being sad and doing things anyway. Sometimes it’s about being hurt and doing things anyway. The point isn’t perfection. The point is doing it anyway.
I’d prefer to see both knees on the ground. I mean, if you’re going to grovel, be the best groveler you can, right?
There are those among us who have erred, deeply and significantly. Who have wounded the world and broken themselves. The worst of them lose themselves in their errors. The best of them crawl back, one foot at a time, and seek to amend their breaches. That is the way of the brave.
My job is to ensure the sanctity of this House. Ensuring the sanity of its Master seemed like a good start.
Consider the possibility that I made a mistake I regret-and that I’ll continue to regret that mistake and try to convince you to give me another chance until the earth stops turning.