So, Waiting-On first: Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore, City of Lost Souls by Cassandra Clare, Pure & Onyx by Jennifer L. Armentrout, and Nevermore by James Patterson.
And now a teaser, well, four. If it weren't for my cousin, I'd be happily reading the Iron Fey series still. But, with him being a big Werewolf fan, when we saw each other last weekend, all we talked about were Werewolf books. So when I got home I couldn't continue The Iron King. I started reading Shiver, the first of Maggie Stiefvater's Wolves of Mercy Falls trilogy instead. Thanks a lot Drew! (tries to look exasperated and angry but can't quite manage to). So, teasers from The Iron King, Shiver, Linger, and Forever.
The Iron King by Julie Kagawa:
"He'll break your heart, princess. Trust me, I've seen enough of his kind to know."
Anger flared, anger that he dared stick his nose into my affairs, anger that he could be right. "Again, it's none of your business, Rob!" I snapped, making his eyebrows arch. "And I can take care of myself, okay? Quit butting in where you're not wanted."
Hurt glimmered briefly, but then it was gone. "Fine, princess. He smirked, holding up his hands. "Don't get your royal pink panties in a twist. Forget I said anything."
"I will." Tossing my head, I flounced out of the room without looking back.
Guilt gnawed at me as I wove through the halls toward the cafeteria. I regretted snapping at Robbie, but sometimes his Big Brother act went too far. Still, Robbie had always been that way--jealous, overprotective, forever looking out for me, like it was his job. I couldn't remember when I first met him; it felt like he'd always been there.
Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater:
Since this book is composed of chapters that alternated between Grace and Sam's point of view, I'm going to include some of Grace and some of Sam.
My wolf hesitated by the edge of the woods, the dim porch light catching his eyes. He was still watching my silhouette through the door.
I pressed my palm flat against the frigid glass.
The distance between us had never felt so vast.
I fell asleep to the scent of my wolf. Pine needles, cold rain, earthy perfume, coarse bristles on my face.
It was almost like he was there.
"I feel like I'm wasting our time together," I confessed.
Sam didn't answer, and I realized he hadn't heard me. I repeated my statement, and he blinked, eyes slowly focusing on me as he returned from whatever world he's been in. He said, "I'm happy just to be here with you. That's enough."
I studied his face for a long moment, trying to decide if he really meant it.
Her gaze headed in my direction, and I looked away hurriedly, down at my book. She wouldn't recognize my face but she would recognize my eyes. I had to believe she would recognize my eyes.
The future and the past, both the same, snow and then summer and then snow again.
A shattered spider's web of many colors, cracked in ice, immeasureably sad.
"Sam," the girl said. "Sam"
She was past present future. I wanted to answer, but I was broken.
Linger by Maggie Stiefvater:
Okay, Isabel and Cole are added to Grace and Sam in Linger, so one of each:
Signs of spring--and, more than that, signs of human occupation--in the middle of the forest. I felt like kneeling to touch the petals of the crocus, to confirm that they were real. But Isabel's watchful eyes kept me standing. "What is this place?"
Isabel stepped over a branch to stand beside me and looked down at the patch of brave little flowers. "Oh, that. Back in the glory days of our house, before we lived here, I guess the owners had a walkway down to the lake and a little garden thing here. There are benches closer to the water, and a statue."
"Can we see it?" I asked, fascinated by the idea of a hidden, overgrown world.
I picked up the crane that I'd folded out of my napkin while I was waiting. It was lumpy and imperfect because the napkin hadn't been quite square. "Yeah."
I rubbed my nose, trying to rid it of the scent of wolf. "I don't know. There's a Japanese legend that if you fold one thousand paper cranes, you get a wish."
Isabel's permanently arched right eyebrow made her smile look inadvertently cruel. "You have a wish?"
"No," I said, as Grace sat back down beside me. "All of my wishes have already been granted."
"What were you wishing for?" Grace interrupted.
"To kiss you," I said to her.
I had my usual group of girls who sat around me, eyes painted like mine, looking unattainable--which was not the same as being unattainable.
Being popular in a town the size of Mercy Falls was ridiculously easy. You only had to believe you were a hot commodity and you were. It wasn't like San Diego, where being popular was like a full-time career. The effects of attending the assembly--an hour-long ad for the Isabel Culpeper brand--would last for a week.
I didn't know how it made me feel.
"What are you looking at?" I snarled.
Without a sound, she slid into the mist.
My body jerked on its own accord, and my skin twisted into another form.
Forever by Maggie Stiefvater:
Now Shelby joins Sam, Grace, Isabel, and Cole.
It was a warm, pleasant day--a great day, by spring-in-Minnesota standards. If you weren't lost and naked, that is.
Without Grace, I lived in a hundred moments other than the one I currently occupied. Every second was filled with someone else's music or books I'd never read. Work. Making bread. Anything to fill my thoughts. I played at normalcy, at the idea that it was just one more day without her, and that tomorrow would bring her walking though my door, life going on as if it hadn't been interrupted.
I measured time by couting Tuesdays.
Three Tuesdays until school was out for the summer.
Seven Tuesdays since Grace had disappeared from the hospital.
Fifty-five Tuesdays until I graduated and got the hell out of Mercy Falls, Minnesota.
Six Tuesdays since I'd last seen Cole St. Clair.
Tuesdays were the worst day of the week in the Culpeper household. Fight day.
This was who I was, now that I was a Werewolf: I was Cole St. Clair, and I used to be NARKOTIKA.
I had thought there'd be nothing left of me, once you took away the pounding bass of NARKOTIKA and the screams of a few hundred thousand fans and a calendar black with tour dats. But here it was, months later, and it turned out that there was fresh skin underneath the scab I'd picked off. Now, I was a fan of the simple pleasures in life...
I am trapped between her and the things that smell like her, moving in the branches and lying on the ground. The girl's eyes are on mine still, challenging me, holding me. I and her prisoner and I cannot escape.
When she screams, I kill her.
I know, a lot. But the Mercy Falls trilogy makes me smile, laugh, groan, tear up, and want more, more, more! If I'd've known how much I'd enjoy reading it, I'd wouldn't've needed a new Werewolf kick from one of my favorite cousins, because I'd've locked myself in a room for a day or two and devoured the set.