Hurry," she breathed. Man, talk about pressure. He was supposed to get it up while demon hordes were trying to kill him, and Satan himself was knocking at the door.

Wraith held up his hands. "Chill, Gramps. I don't want to sit on your knee or anything.

Wraith rubbed his hands together in cheesy horror-movie glee. “Join us or die.” He grinned. “I’ve always wanted to say that.

The pretty nurse had just injected her with something that totally rocked, and if she wanted to think about boinking a bronzed, tattooed, impossibly handsome doctor who was so far out of her league she need a telescope to see him, then screw it. Screw him. Over and over.

You volunteering to play Big Gulp? ~Wraith

I will never belong to anyone—I will die before I allow that to happen.

I'm giving you a free shot at my blood and you're playing hard to get? What kind of vampire are you?" When Wraith just stood there, Kynan rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. My blood's eighty proof. You want it. You know you do.