Crave

There’s not much to be afraid of when you’ve already lost everything that matters.

He turns me inside out with a look, destroys me with a kiss.

Nothing to do but admit that—obnoxious smirk or not—this boy is sexy af. A little wicked, a lot wild, and all dangerous.

I can see something in his eyes. Something powerful and terrible and all-consuming.

If You Can’t Live Without Me, Why Aren’t You Dead Yet?

There are a thousand ways to get somewhere, but not all ways are the correct one.

Everyone answers to me...eventually.

Deep down, I am not different from you. I dreamed you, I wished for your existence.

If You're Not Living on the Edge, You're Taking Up Too Much Space

And just like that, Jaxon strikes. Hands grabbing, fangs flashing, body wrapping itself around me so quickly, I barely understand what’s happening. He whirls me around—my back to his front—tangles his hand in my hair, and pulls my head back.

I want him to look at me like it physically hurts him not to be touching me.

Have you ever wanted something so much that you were afraid to take it? Like it’s right there, waiting for you to just reach out and grab it, but you’re so terrified of what will happen when you lose it that you never make the reach?

Landing Is Just Throwing Yourself at the Ground and Hoping You Don’t Miss

I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.

What am I supposed to say to that, Grace?” “Say you believe me. Say you know it’s not your fault. Say—” “I love you.” I gasp, then let out a slow, shuddering breath as tears I don’t even try to hide bloom in my eyes. “Or you could say that. You could very definitely say that.” “It’s true,” he whispers. “I’m so in love with you.

Twilight? He sent me a copy of Twilight?” I turn to Macy in confusion. Macy gasps as she stares from the book to me. And then she starts to laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

Grace?” he interrupts. I wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t, I answer, “What?” in what could, perhaps, be described as not the nicest tone. “Shut up.

What is wrong with you?” “Got a century or three?

This girl looks mischievous, like she knows she's up way past her bedtime, but she just can't put the story down.

Who did that Klimt sketch remind you of when you bought it?” “You.” The answer comes fast and honest. “I just didn’t know it yet.

Talking to your best friend about the worst thing that ever happened to you in excruciating. Talking to a stranger who doesn't have any kind of vested interest...sometimes it doesn't hurt so much.

I’ve read everything on my Kindle,

We’re all breakable, my boy. Part of being alive.

You planning on having that god complex of yours looked at any time soon?” I snark. “Or are we all just supposed to live with it?” “Wow. You’ve been awake fifteen minutes and you’ve called me a drama queen and now accused me of having a god complex.” He raises his brows. “You sure you’re not mad at me?

The fantasy bookshelf, complete with beautifully covered books about dragons and witches, is home to the third gargoyle statue, who has really fantastical wings and big claws curling around the miniature book she’s reading. Unlike the others, both of whom look ferocious, this girl looks mischievous, like she knows she’s going to get in trouble for being up way past her bedtime, but she just can’t put the story down. I decide instantly that she’s my favorite and pick out a book from her shelf to read tonight in case I can’t sleep. Then nearly laugh out loud as I trace my finger around the edges of a sticker that reads, “I’m not a damsel in distress; I’m a dragon in a dress.

He was leaning over me, resting on his elbow. Sleepy smile, eyes hazy with want. His hair had fallen forward into his face, and I reached up to push it back so I could see his eyes…and, for the first time, as my hand grazed his scarred cheek, he didn’t flinch. His smile didn’t falter and he didn’t duck his head. He didn’t turn away. Instead, he stayed right there with me.

The vampire hat is a really nice touch.” His grin is huge. “Yeah, I thought so, too.” He reaches for my hand at the exact same moment I reach for his. And it feels good. More than good. It feels right.

There's not much to be afraid of when you've already lost everything that matters

Books are fascinating and fun.

That’s it. I have to ask.” Everything about him turns wary. “Ask what?” “Are you an alien?