I threw my hands up. Men. They were impossible to reason with.

I love you, Kitten. There's nothing on this earth or under it that can change that.

You see, you don’t want me to love you. You want the version you’ve made up. The knight, even though I’m the dragon and I always will be.

Tate grabbed me, hugging me so hard, I knew I'd have bruises. He was probably unaware of it, not having had much time to get used to his new strength. I pushed at him, "Tate...you're squeezing me too hard." He let go of me so fast I almost staggered. "Oh Christ, I can't do anything right!

What's in the cave, Russell?' Madigan asked with heavy sarcasm. I shrugged. 'Rocks. Lots of 'em.' 'Don't patronize me.' His voice lowered to a hiss. 'What else is in the cave?' I looked him straight in the eye and spoke one word. 'Mud.

That’s right, you nasty little vixen, bite me harder." Ian urged.

The cool thing about being a writer is: you get to make stuff up. When I started wring about Vampires, I realized, I can take everything i did like about that mythology and anything I didn't like, I didn't have to; because until a real Vampire stands up and says, 'you've got it wrong,' it's anyone's game.