It's Not What You Are. It's What

I Knew I Was Too Late—and I Was Glad Something Bloodthirsty Waited In The Wings. For In Failing At This, I Forfeited Any Desire To Live.

The Bond Forged Between Us Was Not One That Could Be Broken By Absence, Distance, Or Time. And No Matter How Much More Special Or Beautiful Or Brilliant Or Perfect Than Me He Might Be, He Was As Irreversibly Altered As I Was. As I Would Always Belong To Him, So Would He Always Be Mine.

He Leaned Over To Kiss The Top Of My Head, And Then Groaned. I Looked At Him, Puzzled. "you Smell So Good In The Rain," He Explained. "in A Good Way, Or In A Bad Way?" I Asked Cautiously. He Sighed. "both, Always Both.

He's Like A Drug For You, Bella. I See That You Can't Live Without Him Now. It's Too Late. But I Would Have Been Healthier For You. Not A Drug; I Would Have Been The Air, The Sun.

I Grew Up In A Community Where It Was Not The Exception To Be A Good Girl. It Was Sort Of Expected. And All Of My Friends Were Good Girls Too, And My Boyfriends Were Good Boys. Everybody Was Pretty Nice. And That Affects How I Write My Characters. There Aren't Very Many Bad Guys In My Novels.