Death cures all ills. Well, most of them.

If I was truly as brave as I thought I was, I'd have let him go. But I loved him, and I wasn't that brave.

He'd kill you all right. No sweat. But for the wrong reasons. Amateur's reasons. Of course, you'll be just as dead.

I could have just said I'm good at my job, but I didn't. Didn't want the police thinking I was holding out information when I wasn't. "I've got one advantage over a normal homicide detective, I expect it to be a monster. No one ever calls me in if it's just a stabbing, or a hit-and-run. I don't spend a lot of time trying to come up with nice, normal explanations. It means I get to ignore a lot of theories.

I will bathe in your warmth ma petite. Roll you around me until my heart beats only for you. My breath will grow warm from your kiss.

I know you can throw holy water on the vampire, but I didn't know you could throw the host." (Sheriff St. John) I had to smile. "They aren't like little holy grenades. I want the host to give to the Quinlans so they can put one at every windowsill, every doorsill." (Anita Blake)

His eyes widened just a bit, his lips flexed. I realized he was trying not to laugh. I hate it when people find my threats amusing.