Won? He’s one of them! How exactly is that winning?” Michael shook his head, moved up behind her, and put his hands on her shoulders. He kissed the nape of her neck gently. “I don’t know, Eve. I’m just telling you what I heard. He got some kind of agreement out of the vampires. And it was because Amelie loved him.” “Yeah, loved him enough to kill him and turn him into a bloodsucking fiend,” Eve said grimly. “How sweet. Romance isn’t dead. Oh, wait. It is.

That's kind of a leap, but the Russian judge gave you a nine point five for style, so okay.

Goodness," Myrnin said quietly. "I don't think I should be watching this. I don't think I'm old enough.

What about e-mail? It is e-mail, yes?" Morley asked, leaning even closer. "E-mail is a kind of electronic letter. It travels through the air." He seemed very smug that he knew that. "Well, not exactly, and would you please either BACK OFF or go find a shower?

Michael held me when I got inside, because I was shaking all over. That felt so good. Warm all the way down. Did I mention Michael’s feet? They’re all the way sexy, and he’s always barefoot – he hates shoes. I wish he hated pants and shirts, too.

Claire signed. "Go ahead. And thanks. Oh, and be careful?" "Please. I am the queen of careful. Also, princess of punk fabulousness."

Parents had some kind of sin radar, Claire thought. They always called when you were in the middle of something you just knew they'd consider wrong. Or at least risky.