Qhuinn gave in immediately, as he was categorically incapable of denying the female anything — most certainly not one of her hugs. They were even better than her lasagna.

Her perfume or soap or whatever it was reminded him of sandalwood and something else. Oh, right...orgasms.

You have cable?” He nodded toward her TV. She tossed him the clicker. “Sure do. And if I remember, there’s a Godzilla marathon on TBS tonight.” “Sweet,” the vampire said, kicking his legs out. “I always root for the monster.” She smiled at him. “Me, too.

Qhuinn smiled, baring his fangs. 'Has anyone ever shown you the difference between good touch and bad touch? 'Cause I'd love to demonstrate. We could start right now.

So what’d you do to the lesser?” a male voice said. “I lit his cigarette with a sawed-off,” another one answered. “He didn’t come down for breakfast, you feel me?

Then you would hold me up, wouldn't you." He traced over her features with his fingertips. And as he did, for some strange reason, he felt the arms of infinity wrapping around them both, holding them close... linking them forever. Yes, he mouthed. I would hold you up. I will ever hold you up and hold you dear, lover mine.

But Tudor mansions on manicured grounds didn't look right with their grand front doors wide open to the night. It was like a debutante flashing her bra thanks to a wardrobe malfunction.