He gave the body a final kick and then turned to face me. “You and I need to talk, Kitten.” “Now?” I asked in disbelief, gesturing to the dead vampire near his feet. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere, so yeah. Now.

You do that, and I take back every nasty thing I've ever said about you." He grinned, his mood changing from serious to wicked in an instant. "Why? I'm all those things and more." I shook my head. Ian was more proud of his depravity than anyone I'd met, but if he helped me pull Bones out from under four bespelled vampires and one demonically-enchanced vamp, I'd shower him with prostitutes and porn while swearing he was an angel.

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!

This isn't going to be easy," I grumbled as we headed toward the exit. Bones shrugged. "Nothing worthwhile ever is.

Mencheres dropped his hands from my shoulders. “You know that’s what he wants. He’ll want to trade, you for her.” “Then I’ll do it,” I said. Bones’s grip on me turned to steel. “No, you won’t.

My parents were dismayed by my love of horror movies as a young girl, then even more dismayed when I kept rooting for Dracula to win instead of Van Helsing.

Mencheres slid through the water toward her, drawn by the same inexorable compulsion that led moths to dance with flames. He'd had several lifetimes' worth of reason, cold machinations, and, ultimately, emptiness. Perhaps the moths knew what he didn't, that the joy of the flame was worth the price of destruction.