Splintered

Raising one hand, he tilts his hat to that sexy slant. "You want me. Admit it." Even if he's partly right, I'll never tell him. "Why would I want you?" He lifts three fingers to countdown. "Mysterious. Rebellious. Troubled. All those qualities women find irresistible." "Such an optimist." "My cup is never empty." "Too bad your brain is." The words bite, but my smile softens with affection.

No one knows what he or she is capable of until things are at their darkest.

Jen said some guy asked you but you didn't want to go. Why not?" I shrug. "I have this character flaw? Called dignity?

Tearing down the rest of the world won't make you happy. Look inside yourself. Because finding who you were meant to be? What you were put into this world to do? That's what fills the emptiness. It's the only things that can.

I hate you." "Only because of the way I make you feel." My fingernails eat into my palms. "Only because you bring out the worst in me." "Oh no, luv. I bring out the life in you.

I hate you," I say, the sentiment muffled against his heart, hoping to make it true. "And I love you," he answers without hesitation, voice resolved and raw as he holds me tighter so I can't break away and react. "A crossroads, my beautiful princess, that was unavoidable—given our situations.

Sometimes a flame must level a forest to ash before new growth can begin. I believe Wonderland needed a scouring.

You can put me down now," I grump. "I don't know. It's a lot easier to save your ass when I have it riding on my shoulder.

Memories, real and irreplaceable, all of them. The happy ones, the bitter ones, the terrified and the poignant.

Little blossom in peach and red Trapping boys with your pretty head; Tease and play, be coy and smart For you will one day break his heart

Did he touch you? Hurt you?" Jeb whispers in the silence. "No. He was a gentleman." Jeb frowns. "You mean a gentleroach .

Now, you listen, Alyssa Victoria Gardner. Normal is subjective. Don't ever let anyone tell you you're not normal. Because you are to me. And my opinion is all that matters. Got it?

He's a contradiction: taut magic coiled to strike, gentleness at war with severity, a tongue as sharp as a whip's edge, yet skin so soft he could be swathed in clouds.

I was afraid of..." "Go on..." I press. "Of unloading my baggage on someone as sweet as you." I can't keep the smile off my lips. "Oh, wow." "What?" "I guess we're both oblivious. That's the same reason I kept running from my feelings for you." "Because I'm sweet?" That dimpled, boyish grin flashed over his face.

He starts to hum, a haunting melody. No words ride the music, only the familiar notes of a forgotten song.

I've been collecting bugs since I was ten; it's the only way I can stop their whispers. Sticking a pin through the gut of an insect shuts it up pretty quick.

Do you really think these are Alice's tears?" I ask. "That I'm supposed to make them go away somehow?" "I'm the wrong guy to ask. I just saw a skeleton with antlers and a forest of aphid-noshing flower zombies.

Photographs tell a story," Alison mutters. "But people forget to read between the lines.

I go where Al goes, dances-with-bugs. And just so you know, if anything happens to her, I'll pin you by your wings to a corkboard and use you for dart practice.

You crave chaos. You're happiest when the world is in an uproar. You thrive on madness. Even when your magic is at its best when it's the catalyst to confusion. You still can't admit this?

Sometimes a flame must level a forest to ash before new growth can begin.

I coax my palm into his lapel in search of my wish, returning his feverish kisses. "Checkmate, you son of a bug," I say against his mouth two seconds before my fingers find an empty pocket. "Sleight of hand, blossom," he says right back. " 'Tis in fact in my pants pocket, if you'd like to search there.

You understand the logic behind the illogical, Alyssa. It's in your nature to find tranquility amid the madness. And that's what we're doing here. We are giving our food a fighting chance.

I'm going to fall in love with an artist. And we'll have two kids and live in the country. A quiet life, so we can hear our muses and answer when they call. Tipping up my chin to meet his gaze, he gives me a tender, starlit smile—one that melts my insides. "I like your version better.

Then she (Gossamer) turns to Jeb. "Elfin knight, do you wish for pleasure on your quest? I can provide it, if you so desire." Rubbing his labret with his thumb, Jeb glances at me, adorably bewildered. "Um. No thanks. I'm good.

I harden my glare and my heart.

I need to get to that tea party and wake up the guests." Jeb looks at me. "And how are you supposed to do that? Give a magical kiss to the half-baked hatmaker?

Morpheus reaches out to catch a teardrop on his fingertip. He holds it up in the pale glow that radiates from the few remaining sprites above us. A curious frown curves his lips. “You cry for him yet bled for me. One must wonder which is more powerful. More binding. I suppose we shall one day know.

Because of all the things I've experienced on this journey - shrinking and growing, flying sprites, living chess pieces - not a one of them is more magical than this moment.

How long has it been since we've had such delectable visitors?" Jeb eases us into a small clearing in the midst of the chattering creatures and turns me to face him. "Did they just call us 'delectable'?