You remember our talk about purpose and meaning?" he asked me, the smile disappearing. "Well, I think this might be mine. I think this is what I was meant to do, Georgina.

I’d said it before and meant it: Alive or undead, the love of my life was a badass.

Sex had been amazing, but it wasn't a magical cure for everything. Damn. Somewhere along the way, I'd picked up common sense.

Hey, Volusian, you haven't been checking me out, have you?" He gave me his trademark bland stare. "I assure you, mistress, the only allure your bare flesh has for me is to remind me how easy it will be to slice open." I laughed. If not for the fact he was actually serious, he'd be so much fun.

I can't wait until this show gets on the road," he said. "You and me are going to have so much fun, Rose. Picking out curtains, doing each other's hair, telling ghost stories..." The reference to "ghost stories" hit a little closer to home than I was comfortable with. Not that choosing curtains or brushing Christian's hair was much more appealing.

I stared. "Canadian Satanists? You're sending me to a group of Canadian Satanists?

Rose is in red, But never in blue, Sharp as a thorn, Fights like one too.