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I was dying, I realized vaguely. There was no getting out of that. The vampire author would be drained dry by a vampire. It was almost a poetic way to go.
You're a rare breed, Richard d'Alencon."She didn't know the half of it.Unable to resist, he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers in a gentle caress.Her breath caught.Lightning struck.
I'm calling the police, " she said, showing him the phone in her hand.He smiled, and for a moment she forgot about the phone. "You don't need the police."No, of course she didn't How silly.
You don't just... just float someone in the air like that!" she shouted, so beside herself she was almost frenzied."Why? Is there some human law against it?
Chloe said the first thing that popped into her head., "I don't sleep with dead guys..."Luca gave her an amused look. "Good. I'm not dead. Never have been.... I'm immortal.
He's thought he was willing to do anything in order to get what he wanted, what was right for his kind. He'd been certain any sacrifice was possible.He'd been wrong.
if anyone comes into my domain without explicit permission, I’m going to impale you in a way that will give you the very best idea of what it feels like to be a corn dog.
I lifted my head, my gaze meeting his. “Wanting something doesn’t guarantee you will get it.”“A man can still hope.”“I’ve never had much room for hope.
You of all people know how hard it is to trust. Especially when the world we live in is not the one humans are aware of. Trust must be earned, and the way to earn it is to prove you deserve it.
One day you’re a college graduate, in love with Mr. Right and looking for a job. The next day, your Rambo.”“Your timeline is off. And can we lose the Rambo part?
If a faerie, a vampire, and a demon walk into a bar, you wait for the punch line. At Private Eye, when a faerie, a vampire, and a demon walk through the door, it’s just another day at the office.
Did you feel it? Did you feel the darkness in their souls and their countless evil deeds? Their fate was to die in my grasp, beneath the sting of my bite.
Fine. Okay. I killed her. But I didn’t mean to. And I didn’t kill her, kill her.”“Oh, I see. As long as you didn’t kill her, kill her, then that’s okay.
My nipples tightened as I breathed in his musky scent mixed with cologne. I didn’t recognize the brand, but it spoke to something inside me. It whispered come closer, and my heart pounded harder.
Writing is emotional...it is baring your soul to the world and waiting for someone to acknowledge and love it, or shun and hate it, or worse be indifferent about it.