Books Were A Lot Less Messy Than

Really, It's My Fault. It Was There. A Hundred Times There. How Often Did I See It? I Knew. It Kept Happening. Over And Over, You'd Say You Were Through With Him...and Over And Over, I'd Believe It...no Matter What My Eyes Showed Me. No Matter What My Heart Told Me. My. Fault.

I Said Earlier That Dead Things Don't Always Stay Dead. Well, I'm One Of Them. Don't Worry - I'm Not Like The Strigoi. But I Did Die Once (i Don't Recommend It).

Dimitri: "don't Look At Me Like That." Rose: "like What?" Dimitri: "you've Got This Look On Your Face That Says You Think I'm Delusional, But You're Too Nice To Say Anything.

One Day She's Throwing A Book At Me. The Next, We're Making Out Behind The Library.

If You're Strigoi," The Boy Interrupted Loudly, "then Why Don't You Have Horns? My Friend Jeffrey Said Strigoi Have Horns." Dimitri's Eyes Fell Not On The Boy But On Me For A Moment. Again, That Spark Of Knowing Shot Between Us. Then, Face Smooth And Serious, Dimitri Turned To The Boy And Answered, "strigoi Don't Have Horns. And Even If They Did, It Wouldn't Matter Because I'm Not A Strigoi.