“Sebastian's eyes were the color of smoke and silver. His pale skin, raven hair, and naturally dark red lips, paired with a rebel attitude and a poet's soul, pulled me in like a dark, magnetic force.” — Kelly Keaton Copy Share Image
“I thought you weren't supposed to open Pandora's Box." He shrugged. "Wouldn't know about that. Probably just a myth." I lifted an eyebrow. "Really.… — Kelly Keaton Copy Share Image
“Don't be afraid." And then we were gone. Weightless. The ground at my feet suddenly disappeared along with everything else. A scream lodged in my throat, coming out broken and pathetic. And then we were sitting on a wide ledge. High above Jackson Square. Christ, he'd blinked me to - I gazed above me. Not just a ledge. Oh God,… — Kelly Keaton Copy Share
“Whatever it was, it was something you could dance to, or lie down on the floor, close your eyes, and weep to.” — Kelly Keaton Copy Share Image
“You don't have to see me out," I told him as he came back to the table. "Unless you're going home too." "No. I… — Kelly Keaton Copy Share Image
“I glanced up into round black eyes, ringed in yellow, but in some small part I saw humanity there. Sadness. It blinked. "Made," it… — Kelly Keaton Copy Share Image
“I laughed in disbelief, the sharp sound rebounding down the corridor, the echo eventually replaced by the flat, continuous drip of water against stone.… — Kelly Keaton Copy Share Image
“Athena came into focus. She stood at my feet, looking down at me with a pleased expression. "He's mine now," she practically purred. I… — Kelly Keaton Copy Share Image
“I’m not some three-hundred-year-old pervert who kisses teenage girls, okay?” — Kelly Keaton Copy Share Image
“Yes, tell us, Ari. Tell us what you have seen." Athena. Dead flowers and flashing emerald beads threaded through her tangled, upswept hair. A hard swallow went down down my throat, followed by a tightening of every muscle I possessed. All the emotions of my vision boiled over, as fresh and furious as they'd been a few moments ago. "You… — Kelly Keaton Copy Share
“How's your scratch, Henri?" I asked. He snorted and leaned against the dresser. "You mean the shotgun blast in my side? It's wonderful. I have about eighty pellet-size scars to show for it." "Dude," Dub said, plopping down in one of the chairs, "Who gets shot with their own gun? Embarrassing, if you ask me." Henri gave Dub's chair a… — Kelly Keaton Copy Share
