It's unclear who moves first. We're in each other's arms, lips locked, melded, hotly fused. Our hands drag over each other, reacquainting, remembering, almost as if we're both verifying the other one is real flesh and blood.

— Sophie Jordan

I wish for adventure. I wish to matter. I wish for a home.

— Sophie Jordan

I won't let him have you.

— Sophie Jordan

No longer do I fear. No longer do I let others define me. I know what I am. What I'm capable of. That I'm a girl... a woman who will fight to survive.

— Sophie Jordan

Pleasure suffused her, and she snuggled deeper into his arms, her heart clenching when he tightened his hold on her. After a while his breathing slowed and his hold relaxed. Convinced he slept, she whispered, "You should have been my first." A small ache pinched her heart. His chest vibrated beneath her hand, sending a thrilling shiver up her spine as his deep voice rumbled through the air, "I'll be your last.

— Sophie Jordan

So what's the deal with you and my sister?" He laughs shortly and rubs the back of his neck like something is there, tickling, tap

— Sophie Jordan

Sudden conviction races through me, almost terrifying in its total certainty. I can't give him up. He's the other part of me. He gets what it feels like to be separate from everything and everyone, to reject the path others lay out for you. We're the same. Two sides to the same coin.

— Sophie Jordan

That's what I wanted. Something to enrich me, to make me feel better about the things in my life that I could never change." - Page 56

— Sophie Jordan

Then again, there’s nothing simple about Will. I think back to what he can do—bend earth, resist shading, his immense strength—and it’s glaringly inaccurate to consider him a human. But then I can’t think of him as a Drake either. And this strikes me as sad. Will doesn’t belong anywhere. Not among humans. Not among Drake. But he belongs with me. The conviction is still there, as senseless and dangerous as always, seeping into my bones, my heart. A fact I wouldn’t change even if I could.

— Sophie Jordan

When I shoot, the ball bounces hard against the backboard, and flies wildly through the air, knocking the coach in the head. I slap a hand over my mouth. The coach barely catches herself from falling. Several students laugh. She glares at me and readjusts her cap. With a small wave of apology, I head back to the end of the line. Will's there fighting laughter. "Nice," he says. "Glad I'm down court of you." I cross my arms and resist smiling, resist letting myself feel good around him. But he makes it hard. I want to smile. I want to like him, to be around him, to know him. "Happy to amuse you.

— Sophie Jordan