I told you once before,” I said, the words husky from remembrance. “Everyone holds their sins close to their skin.” Fangs gleamed for an instant before Vlad bit into his wrist, pooling up two deep crimson holes. “Then come,” he said, holding it out. “And taste mine.

I do not understand this analogy," Mencheres muttered.

The last thing that you need to fret about is my feeling emasculated, Kitten; but talk is cheap, so I'll be sure to show you later." ~Bones

There were words for what he meant to me, but if I studied every language ever spoken for the next thousand years, I still wouldn’t find enough of them to describe it.

Isn’t he gorgeous?” With those rolls, the wet-sounding grunts, bulbous wiggly tail, and smashed face—not to mention the fart the dog let out once he situated himself—he was gorgeous in a way that only a parent could appreciate.

Then, when people saw you strolling around at high noon holding your rosary beads, they’d think, ‘Well, that can’t be a vampire.

Where are you, bloodsuckers? Here, fangy, fangy, fangy...