As far as he was concerned, there were only two good positions for a human. A female on her back. And a male facedown not breathing.

You've won the evolutionary lottery: You're a vampire. Let's go to Disneyland!

You know, Qhuinn's an interesting character." Saxton reached out with an elegant hand and picked up his port. "He's one of my favorite cousins, actually. His nonconformity is admirable and he's survived things that would crush a lesser male. Don't know that being in love with him would be easy, however." Blay didn't go near that one. "So do you come here often?" Saxton laughed, his pale eyes glinting, "Not for discussion, huh.

You never realized how thick your fog was until it lifted.

Rule number four for me as a writer? Plotlines are like sharks: They either keep moving or they die. ~J.R. Ward

She was seriously staring. Which was what you did when you got a gander at a man who is hung like a Louisville Slugger.

He was the first to reach the aircraft, and he went for the door that by some miracle was facing outward and not into the concrete wall. Wrenching the thing open, and getting out his flashlight, he didn’t know what to expect inside—smoke? Fumes? Blood and body parts? Zsadist was sitting rigid in a backward-facing seat, his big body strapped in, both hands locked on the armrests. The Brother was staring straight ahead and not blinking. “Have we stopped moving?” he said hoarsely