Because blood is blood, and every family has its own force. Its own flavor. Its own charm and strange.
You wanted to live," he says. "You say that like it's a good thing. A virtue." "What is it really?" I think about this. "Selfish." "Wanting to live is selfish?" "Yes.
You have a history of starving yourself," he says gently. I lift my head. I meet his gaze. "I have a history that I don't like to talk about.
She must have seen more of my charm than my strangeness tonight.
