I Wondered How Many Times In My

Ghost?” St. Vincent Shot Him An Incredulous Glance. “christ. You’re Not Serious, Are You?” "i’m A Gypsy,” Cam Replied Matter-of-factly. “of Course I Believe In Ghosts.” “only Half Gypsy. Which Led Me To Assume That The Rest Of You Was At Least Marginally Sane And Rational.” “the Other Half Is Irish,” Cam Said A Touch Apologetically. “christ,” St. Vincent Said Again, Shaking His Head As He Strode Away.

If You Married Me,it Would Be Scandalous And Innapropriate, And Doors Would Be Closed To You." "good God, Woman, I Let Two Of My Sisters Marry Gypsies. Those Doors Have Already Been Closed, Bolted, And Nailed Shut.

Then He Raised Her Enough To Whisper In Her Ear, And While His Voice Was Tender, His Words Were Savage. "you're My Woman, And No Man Or God Or Ghost Will Ever Take You From Me.

I've Got About Ten Things To Say To You Right Now. But At Least Nine Of Them Would Make Me Sound Like A Psycho.” In Spite Of The Seriousness Of The Situation, I Nearly Smiled. “what’s The Tenth Thing?” I Asked His Shirtfront. He Paused, Considering It. “never Mind,” He Grumbled. “that One Would Make Me Sound Like A Psycho, Too.

Can't You Just Tell Me Now?" "no, I Need Someone To Eat With." A Slight Smile Rose To My Lips. "am I Supposed To Believe That I'm Your Only Option?" "no. But You're My Favorite Option.