Becca Fitzpatrick Quotes - Page 16

Don’t panic, I thought. But already my breathing was faster, shallower. “You mean you can feel happy or sad or—” “Desire.” A barely-there smile.

It makes no difference to me whether I shoot you or you fall to your death.” “It does make a difference,” I said, my voice small but confident. “You and I share the same blood.” I lifted my hand precariously, showing him my birthmark. “I’m your descendant. If I sacrifice my blood, Patch will become human and you’ll die. It’s written in The Book of Enoch.

That was a good fight back in the gym,” he said. “But I think you could benefit from a few more boxing lessons.

I didn’t accept your sacrifice. I turned it down.” I felt a small Oh form at my mouth, but it never quite made it past my lips. “Are you saying you gave up getting a human body for me?

I got a new job.” Patch locked eyes with me, and I warmed in a lot of places. In fact, I was dangerously close to feverish.

You don't happen to have a thousand dollars I can borrow?" "I don't have five you can borrow. My piggy bank is officialy anorexic.

Do you think the Bible is accurate? I mean, do you think it's real?" " I think Pastor Calvin is hot. In a fortysomething way. That pretty much sums up my religious conviction

Vee scowled at him. She is famous for that scowl. It's a look that does everything but audibly hiss.

You picked the seats you did for a reason, right? Familiarity. Too bad the best sleuths avoid familiarity. It dulls the investigative instinct.

You belong to the biblical race of Nephilim. Your real father was an angel who fell from heaven. You're half mortal." The boy's dark eyes lifted, meeting Chauncey's. "Half fallen angel." Chauncey's tutor's voice drifted up from the recesses of his mind, reading passages from the Bible, telling of a deviant race created when angels cast from heaven mated with mortal women. A fearsome and powerful race. A chill that wasn't entirely revulsion crept through Chauncey. "Who are you?

If you can't feel then why did you kiss me? Because I can feel it here, in my heart.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. This isn’t a good idea. This isn’t right.” “There’s all kinds of right,” he murmured. “On the spectrum, we’re still in the safe zone.” ... “Definitely right. Usually right,” Patch continued. “Mostly right. Maybe right.

You’re impinging on my private space,” I said, inching backward. Patch gave a barely-there smile. "Impinging? This isn’t the SAT, Nora.

And anyway, the first three letters in the word diet should tell you what I want it to do.

There was nothing wrong with fire … as long as you didn’t stand too close. Something to keep in mind.

You should shower," I said. "Right now." "I smell that bad?" (Patch) Actually, he smelled that good.

Patch: "It's hard to concentrate on answers with you looking like that.

Right then, I wanted to go back in time and relive every moment with him. One more secret smile, one more shared laugh. One more electric kiss. Finding him was like finding someone I didn't know I was searching for. He’d come into my life too late, and now was leaving too soon. I remembered him telling he’d give up everything for me. He already had.

When it comes to reflexes, I'm like a cat. I'm Catwoman. I'm invulnerable. The only reason he got a piece of me is because of the rain. Cats don't like water. It impairs us. It's our kryptonite.

Tacos." "Tacos?" I echoed. This seemed to amuse him. "Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese." "I know what a taco is!

Don't blame me. Tell your mom to move closer. Tell her there's this new club called civilization and you guys should join.

This is crazy," I told Patch in an undertone. "I'm crazy." He was on the brink of smiling again. "About you.

You think the two of us and a slummy motel make for a dangerous combination?

His black eyes sliced into me, and the corners of his mouth tilted up. My heart fumbled a bit and in that pause, a feeling of gloomy darkness seemed to slide like a shadow over me. It vanished in an instant but I was still staring at him. His smile wasn't friendly. It was a smile that spelled trouble. With a promise.

I wrinkled my nose, trying to figure out what he smelled like. Not cigarettes. Something richer, fouler. Cigars.