“Show of hands," Devon said, breaking the silence. "Who thinks we're screwed?”
“I’d take a physical fight over Touchy-Feely Share Time, hands down”
“So," I said climbing to my feet and changing the subject ASAP, "I had a dream last night someone tried to burn me alive, and I'm not entirely sure it was a dream."
Devon stiffened. Chase's pupils pulsed.
Subject successfully changed.
"Now who's ready to eat?”
“In the end,” Callum said, his voice soft, gentle, “it all comes back to you. You protect them [your pack], you love them, you live for them, and someday, you die. That’s what it means, Bryn-girl, to be what we are [to be Alpha]. It’s lonely. It’s impossible. It’s all-consuming.” It is what it is.”
“Being raised by a psychopath will do that to you.”
“She'd been taught all her life not to attack humans, but knocking them unconscious with tranquilizer guns was more of a gray area.”
“I wasn't entirely sure how to reply. Blow me and Screw you both seemed like strong contenders, but the peanut gallery in my head appeared to be favoring castration.”
“Did you follow me here?" I asked.
Lake shrugged. "The word follow seems to suggest you got here first.”
“Hierarchy was like breathing: the only time you thought about it was when something went wrong.”
“The werewolf Senate hadn't been happy with the idea of a human alpha, and there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think about the fact that I had something most male Weres wanted very, very badly...Maddy. Lake. Lily, Katie, Sloane, Avie, Sophie...”
“This however, wasn't an ideal world, and no matter how hard I tried to think of an answer, I had nothing.”
“Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.
I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.”
“I am shrunken and shriveled inside, a rotten chestnut hidden beneath a deceptively smooth shell”
“Tell my dad...that I've been hiding his favorite cape in a closet on the twenty-ninth floor. But don't tell him the door is rigged with gulon gas. Let him find that out on his own.”
“The shadow-past is shaped by everything that never happened. Invisible, it melts the present like rain through karst. A biography of longing. It steers us like magnetism, a spirit torque. This is how one becomes undone by a smell, a word, a place, the photo of a mountain of shoes. By love that closes its mouth before calling a name.”
“Dwayne! Don't be ridiculous. Guy's don't share their girlfriends.'
Why not?'
Because they don't. Men are instinctually competitive. It's so there'll be lots of wars to keep overpopulation in check.”
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