A long-dead angel who thought to own me,” was his enigmatic answer, the silver in his eyes almost liquid. “I tore out his throat. After that, I ate his liver and his heart. The remaining internal organs weren’t as tasty so I gave them to his other creatures.” Elena’s hand tightened on the handle of the knife, conscious Naasir carried gleaming blades of his own in the sheaths strapped to his arms. “I wouldn’t think a vampire who killed an angel would be permitted to live.” A slow, feral smile. “I didn’t say I killed him.

Emotion without reason lets people walk all over you; reason without emotion is a mask for cruelty.

Tell her we don’t bite.” “I don’t lie to my friends.

A naked blade sheathed in velvet, that was Raphael's voice.

Do tell. It might be entertaining to see who gets to you first.” “Excuse me if entertaining you isn’t at the top of my agenda.

Fathers and mothers,” she found herself saying, “leave their mark, no matter if we’ve known them a lifetime or only a day.

To fight is to face death once more, perhaps the total annihilation of their kind. But to run... is that not also a kind of annihilation?