Because he sounded so lost-the Eric I knew had never been one to do anything other than assume others should serve him-I patted around under the covers for his hand. When I found it, I slid my own over it. His palm was turned up to meet my palm, and his fingers clasped mine. And though I would not have thought it possible to go to sleep holding hands with a vampire, that's exactly what I did.

I’d never seen anything like it. First a trial, then a few murders, then dancing. Life goes on. Or, in this case, death continues.

Better to be screwed physically than financially.

I have lived one step away from losing my mind for years. I am quick and accurate in spotting unstable streaks in others.

Hoyt was by himself right under one of the portable lights rigged up for the occasion. He had his hands thrust in his pockets, and he looked more serious than I’d ever seen him. There was something strange about the sight, and after a second I figured out why. It was one of the few times I’d ever seen Hoyt alone.

I snuck a look to see how Eric was taking this, and he was staring at me the same way the Monroe vampires had. Thoughtful. Hungry. "That's interesting," he said. "I had a psychic once. It was incredible." "Did the psychic think so?

Life should imitate romance literature far more often.