I want you. I want you so badly I can’t stand it. When you left, it felt like the world got darker. Like I couldn’t truly see anything. Couldn’t feel anything.

— Rachel Vincent

Marc’s hand tightened visibly around Kevin’s fingers, his digits going white. Again. Both men clenched their jaws, Kevin in pain, and Marc in an obvious effort to control his temper and keep from breaking Kevin’s hand. Off. Why couldn’t guys find a more original way to test each other’s manly prowess? Arm wrestling might have been more subtle. Or maybe comparing the length of their…canines.

— Rachel Vincent

Most aspects of my training didn’t agree with me. There wasn’t as much bossing around as I’d hoped for, and there was way too many following orders.

— Rachel Vincent

My aunt and overprivileged cousin only recognize two states of being: glitter and grunge. And if you weren’t glitter, well, that only left one other option.

— Rachel Vincent

Okay, time to get serious. I let my smile fade slowly and lowered my pitch, as no human woman could have. “I’m not joking this time. If I see it, it’s mine, and you won’t get it back at the end of the school year.” I growled, deep and long, savoring the feel of the vibrations in my throat, as if the sound alone could save me. It wasn’t quite a cat’s growl, but it was damn close. And it was his last warning. Miguel dismissed my threat with an easy smile, and my stomach clenched. Oh, yeah, Fay the. You have Puss shaking in his boots, all right.

— Rachel Vincent

Paddock stabbed his fried egg with his fork, and bright yellow yolk bled all over his plate like a sunshine hemorrhage.

— Rachel Vincent

People weren't just angry about it. They were still afraid. Fear is a powerful, often irrational emotion, and mass fear... has the power to shake any society to its core. As long as the world remembered, they would live in fear of all cryptids-- regardless of whether any individual among us was truly dangerous. Of course, not everyone supported stripping cryptids of all right. But dissenters were few among a dangerous and violent many, and most ignored the problem. Submission was the only solution they could conceive of to fix my problem. But with the imprint of Clyde's fist still throbbing in my stomach I was less interested in fixing a problem than in becoming one.

— Rachel Vincent

Screw this. He’d blown his shot at nice-and-easy, which only left quick-and-brutal—my favorite way to play.

— Rachel Vincent

She's fifteen!" Nash shrugged. "That's just a number. It doesn't say anything about her."" It says something pretty damn funny about your IQ!" I said, and he opened his mouth to retort, but I spoke over him. "Fifteen is too young to drive, too young to get a legal job, too young to sign a lease, and obviously too young to pick a boyfriend with half a brain.

— Rachel Vincent

Shoving aside fear and self-doubt, I met his eyes, aiming for absolute confidence in both my stance and my voice. “My father taught me to disarm my opponent at all costs—regardless of his choice of weapon,” I said, glancing pointedly at his groin.”Are you threatening me?”“Damn right. Lay one hand on me, and you’ll never stand to pee again.” His eyes darkened, and his laugh sounded forced. “You’re very funny, Anita.”“I’m glad you think so. I’ve always considered my sense of humor to be largely under-appreciated, so it’s nice to finally meet a fan.

— Rachel Vincent