I spent the rest of the day in someone else's story. The rare moments that I put the book down, my own pain returned in burning stabs.

Kate, I admit that we aren’t in the easiest of situations. But are you always this . . . complicated?”I opened my mouth to say something, but Vincent shook his head, grinning. “Actually, don’t answer that. Of course you are. I wouldn’t be so totally into you if you weren’t.

The day I stop seeing you as one of the strongest people I know is the day I wake up human.

All this yummy muscleness first thing in the morning is almost too much for me to take,” she cooed, and gave him a playful wink as she scooted herself into the front seat. I shook my head. If “Flirt” qualified as a foreign language, my sister and Ambrose would both have PhDs in it.

Yeah, right, like Catherine Deneuve has her own hot-guy SWAT team trolling the neighborhood for celebrity stalkers with swords" - Kate (Die For Me)

A few Paris blocks away I led a completely normal life with my sister & grandparents. And here I was sword fighting with dead guys.

How’s your dance card look?” “Double-check your century Jules. No dance cards.” Jules shrugged & gave me his most flirtatious smile.

Kate: “Oh, please, Vincent. We’re in the middle of a major tourist site. Père Lachaise cemetary is practically Disneyland for the Dead. It’s not some Buffy soundstage with vampires rising out of the ground every time someone turns around.

Gaspard eyed me cautiously. “I really can’t say,” he responded in his formal nineteenth-century style. Can’t, or won’t? I thought.