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“The greatest and most powerful revolutions often start very quietly, hidden in the shadows." He eyed me. "Remember that."

I didn't want boys my own age. But I didn't say that. I didn't say anything.

He smiled, surprised and amused I'd guessed another secret about him.

I liked the way he looked at me, like I was the sexiest, most wonderful thing in the world.

"Beautiful?"

"You are so beautiful it hurts me sometimes."

Lissa had never been kissed like that, and I felt her respond to it, respond to him-how he made her feel so much more alive than Aaron or anyone else could.

Christian pulled back from the kiss but still kept his face next to hers.

"That's what you do with someone you like."

"You did say 'presents’, right? Like more than one?"

He laughed outright, and the sound wrapped around me like a caress. God, I loved the sound of his laugh. "This is from me."

He handed me a small, plain bag. Puzzled and excited, I opened it up. Lip gloss, the kind I liked. I'd complained to him a number of times how I was running out, but I'd never thought he was paying attention.

"This is the dress you were born for. I don't care how practical you are now,"…,

"That is my dress," I admitted. I kept staring at it, wanting lit so badly that it ached in my chest. This was the kind of dress that changed the world. The kind of dress that started religions.

"You've gone all boring on me."

"Hey, I don't see you buying slutty tops.”

"I'm not the one who wears them."

“Thanks a lot."

A ghostly smile flickered across his face. "If you weren't so psychotic, you'd be fun to hang around."

"Funny, I feel that way about you too."

He didn't say anything else, but the smile grew, and he

walked away.

"Did she tell you?.. "Why not? She'd told him everything else.

"She didn't need to," he said. "I've got eyes."

I shook my head. Setting fires was apparently a new sign of affection. Christian had done it and now Mason.

I couldn't be Mason's girlfriend because when I imagined someone holding me and whispering dirty things in my ear, he had a Russian accent.

He'd finished the bandages but was still holding my hands. I don't even know if he noticed. I certainly did. His were warm and large, with long and graceful fingers. Fingers that might have played the piano in another life.

I didn't like having reasonable arguments thrown at me.

You're some kind of superstar. Some kind of evil, compulsion-abusing superstar.

I couldn't help it. I liked flirting, I liked groups, and Iliked making smartass comments in class.

…and she had on an awesome pair of black heels that would have looked much better on me.

"We can take her. Besides, he deserves someone who doesn't shop at Gap Kids."

"Rose, you've got to stop saying things like that."

"I'm just saying what you won't."

The hard, stoic warrior I'd met earlier was gone - just for a moment-and he actually looked concerned. Truly concerned.

Feeling his eyes on me like that made something flutter inside of me which was stupid, of course. I had no reason to get all goofy, just because the man was too good-looking for his own good. After all, he was an antisocial god, according to Mason.

One who was supposedly going to leave me in all sorts of pain.