He held her forever. Ashy flickers swam in his eyes, shadows of temptation drawing her into infinite depths. A breath away from his tantalising mouth, she parted her lips. The thudding of her pulse hurt. The knocking of her heart brushed her soul. She sank into him.

My lord, I__ rather be alone._ His smile vanished. Not a single muscle in his body bulged, but the color of his eyes turned to dark ashes.__nd I__ rather not.

Why are you in my room?___ecause I can be.___ou shouldn__ be.___ave it, Rochester. You broke my nose.___oes it hurt?__e lifted a hand toward his face and dropped it. __ou could say that.___ood.__e nudged a tray on the floor with his boot. It had oatmeal, toast, and orange juice on it. __ungry?__onor__ stomach growled. __o.__yder__ lips turned up in a fleeting sadistic smile. He kicked the tray across the room. It hit the wall and overturned. __ood.

To know of the existence of evil, true evil that corrupted the world, had forever altered her heart and mind. If she had chosen a different path, she wouldn't have slept another night. Her head would have been restless as she thought only of the horrors that might be creeping outside her door, waiting to rend her flesh. She would not live a life as the hunted; she would be the hunter.

There are countless reasons for reading, but when you__e young and uncertain of your identity, of who you may be, one of the most compelling is the quest to discover yourself reflected in the pages of a book.

What would angel lips taste like? Sunshine? Marshmallows? Or something altogether different? Maybe buttered-popcorn jelly beans.