I am fangirl, hear me roar. 
 No, really. I'm not kidding. Me, the one who likes to slap people who squeal too much. We all have our weaknesses which will turn us into a crazed fangirl. Dimitri Belikov is mine. Oh how I love that Russian. 
 I promise that I will read the Laini Taylor short story (and maybe check out a couple others), but it's no secret that the only reason I had to get my hands on this book was for the extra helping of my Dimka in the Richelle Mead short story. 
 Creative and insightful review be damned. Today it's all about the swoon. I'm allowed to be a girly girl every so often and care more about the guy than the story. At least just once in a while? 
 There was a story in here somewhere. I think they went to visit the family and there was a Strigoi hunt. Unfortunately for this review, my mind went right to the highlight reel of Dimitri. 
 Putting a six-foot-seven-inch man by the window in coach was just cruel. He hadn't complained the entire time, though. He never did. 
 Morning light illuminated the sculpted features of his face and shone off his sleek brown hair. None of it could compare to the radiance within him. 
 From the moment we'd met, he'd always stood out as one of the most decisive, confident people I'd known. He was always in motion, never afraid to take on any threat, even if it meant risking his own life. Even now, if some bloodthirsty monster sprang out of the cockpit, Dimitri would calmly jump up and battle it while armed only with the safety card in his seat pocket. 
 "I haven't even tried," he said, in a rare moment of arrogance. "When I want to, I can be very persuasive." 
 "Yeah? Prove it." 
 His lips moved toward mine. "I was hoping you'd say that." 
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