Half Of Your Attention Is Better Than

What You're Blaming Yourself For Is Being Who You Are. And That's No One's Fault And Nothing You Can Change.

Will Looked As If He Were Being Asked To Believe In Something Impossible—snow In Summertime, A London Winter Without Rain.

The Moment The Door Closed Behind Him, Tessa Was In Will's Arms, Her Hands Locked About His Neck. "oh, By The Angel," She Said. "that Was Mortifying." Will Slid His Hands Into Her Hair And Was Kissing Her, Kissing Her Eyelids And Her Cheeks And Then Her Mouth, Quickly But With Fervor And Concentration, As If Nothing Could Be More Important. "listen To You," He Said. "you Said 'by The Angel.' Like A Shadowhunter." He Kissed The Side Of Her Mouth. "i Love You. God, I Love You. I Waited So Long To Say It.

Flirting? We Were Merely Indulging In A Little Risqué Conversation," Magnus Said, Offended. "when I Begin To Flirt, I Assure You The Entire Room Will Know. My Flirtations Cause Sensations.

Well, I Don't Want You To Die," Tessa Said. "i Don't Know Why I Feel It So Strongly -- I've Just Met You -- But I Don't Want You To Die." "and I Trust You," He Said. "i Don't Know Why -- I've Just Met You -- But I Do.