He was like Superman, but with fangs and oddly impaired morals.

What would a racist call werewolves? Wargs? She kind of liked that one, but suspected that racist bastards didn't read Tolkien.

There isn’t a person in this city more dangerous than a wolf whose mate is in danger.

He was obviously dead. But since he was a vampire that wasn't as hopless a thing as it might have been.

No-pocket jeans are only slightly less irritating than thong underwear.

After I shut the door behind me, I heard Darryl say "of course eating him would work too.

Charles was most comfortable by himself or, if that wasn't possible, with his pack in the wild. Talking for hours in a crowded auditorium was not on any list of things he enjoyed—or things he was good at. At least no one had died. Yet.