You know that old saying. Once you go dead, no one's better in bed.

Does no one think to warn people before they meet me?" Vlad muttered, shooting an irritable look at Mencheres.

It was the sort of bone deep emotion that made him want to hold her tighter with one hand, and draw a sword against the world with the other.

It hurts to much to be close to you, but continually pushed away.

Are you having performance issues?” I asked in surprise. “Bite your tongue,” Vlad said, with a snort. “I was seeing if Dermot understood sign language, but from the look on his face, it seems not.

No one believes you’re serious until bodies start to fall. -Vlad

Get stuffed, don't you have more publicity stunts to pull?" Bones shot back. "How about chatting with another writer who can smear your name into greater popularity?" "What, did Anne Rice not return your calls, mate?" Vlad asked scathingly. "Jealousy is such an ugly trait.