Not one word about proposals, no matter how much she pushes,” I told my friends. “No matter what she says or how loud she cries, don’t try to throw that up as a distraction.”Gabriel’s lips twitched. “I don’t think it’s going to be that bad. It’s one woman against five supernatural creatures... And Zeb.”“You laugh because you haven’t heard my mother’s thirty-minute verbal dissertation on appropriate seasonal flower choices. We’re better off letting her yell at us for being dirty, premarital fornicators.

His lips were practically grazing my nose. His gray eyes were so intense I could feel them reach my soul—if that were possible, anyways. With a smile so devious on his face and in his eyes Xavier whispered, "I can tell that every part of you wants to give in to what I am. The feeling that you feel right now is consuming. I’ve been there before, Ava. You can’t deny everything much longer."Closing my eyes, and swallowing back every temptation I felt, I backed away from his warmth. I opened my eyes to see his eyes searching my face in pure awe."Watch me," I challenged.

BLOODY LIPSThe bloody woundOf the gladiatorGurgles out life's end.The cries of acclimations from the standsFill the sky with raging tigers.Waving their arms about to incite the massesThe aging notables add an air of dignity to the arena.Making their separate entriestheyKNEELover the still-warm corpsesOf the young. Their withered lips they poseUpon the fresh flowing woundsAnd, to prolong their lives – so they believe,Suck, ravenously suck out the blood, blood, blood.Fresh blood from the sunFlowing into filthy veinsAs into sewage pipes,And thus the Heart of the Nation is abandoned.

Being a vampire for him meant revenge. Revenge against life itself. Every time he took a life it was revenge. It was no wonder, then, that he appreciated nothing. The nuances of vampire existence weren't even available to him because he was focused with a maniacal vengeance upon the mortal life he'd left. Consumed with hatred, he looked back. Consumed with envy, nothing pleased him unless he could take it from others; and once having it, he grew cold and dissatisfied, not loving the thing for itself; and so he went after something else. Vengeance, blind and sterile and contemptible.

Did we have sex?" he asked directly.For about two minutes, this might actually be fun. "Eric," I said, "we had sex in every position I could imagine, and some I couldn’t. We had sex in every room in my house, and we had sex outdoors. You told me it was the best you’d ever had." (At the time he couldn’t recall all the sex he’d ever had. But he’d paid me a compliment.) "Too bad you can’t remember it," I concluded with a modest smile.Eric looked like I’d hit him in the forehead with a mallet. For all of thirty seconds his reaction was completely gratifying.

This is not written for the young or the light of heart, not for the tranquil species of men whose souls are content with the simple pleasures of family, church, or profession. Rather, I write to those beings like myself whose existence is compounded by a lurid intermingling of the dark and thelight; who can judge rationally and think with reason, yet who feel too keenly and churn with too great a passion; who have an incessant longing for happiness and yet areshadowed by a deep and persistent melancholy—those who grasp gratification where they may, but find no lasting comfort for the soul.

I noticed Xander had subtly adjusted his posture. He slouched slightly to the side, let his head hang, and then looked up through his bangs to gaze at something in the middle distance. Uber James Dean. Xander managed to pull it off as if he was looking at nothing, just having deep thoughts about the far away adventures he would be having if he wasn’t stuck waiting for a flowered suitcase at Hopkins International. I casually let my eyes slide across the room. There had to be cute girls somewhere close at hand. Otherwise Xander wouldn’t have broken out his middle distance gazing Tyrone Power eyes.

Stop!” she screamed. “Don’t hurt him.”“Back off!” Billy shouted.She yanked harder on Billy’s arm.“He isn’t a vampire anymore, idiot. Look! Do you see that big, yellow thing up in the sky? That’s called the sun. It’s shining down on him, and he isn’t exploding. His fangs are gone. He’s as human as we are. Case closed.”Billy stared up at the sky, his jaw slack. “Not possible.”Jack mumbled, “They don’t call me Jackpot for nothing.”“What?” Billy blinked at him.“Private joke.

So--what's it like, being a vampire?""Aline!" Isabelle looked appalled. "You can't just go around asking people what's it like to be a vampire!""I don't see why," Aline said. "He hasn't been a vampire that long, has he? So he must still remember what it was like being a person." She turned back to Simon. "Does blood taste like blood to you? Or does it taste like something else now, like orange juice or something? Because I would think the taste of blood would-""It tastes like chicken," Simon said, just to shut her up."Really?" Aline looked astonished."He's making fun of you, Aline," said Sebastain

He’s not feeling well,” Clary said, catching at Simon’s wrist. “We’re going.” “No,” Simon said. “No, I — I need to talk to him. To the Inquisitor." Robert reached into his jacket and drew out a crucifix. Clary stared in shock as he held it up between himself and Simon. “I speak to the Night’s Children Council representative, or to the head of the New York clan,” he said. “Not to any vampire who comes to knock at my door —“ Simon reached out and plucked the cross out of Robert’s hand. “Wrong religion,” he said.

I assume you are the sort of person who would go backstage after the opera in hopes of hearing the prima donna crying on the telephone, or walking in on the baritone fellating the basso buffo. I respect that-I was always the same way myself-though I suspect you are not very happy. Happiness is the province of those who ask few questions. I remember, even before this was visited upon me, how I envied those who eagerly did what they were told: those who married without complaint at father's behest; those who looked up rather than sideways in church; those, in short, who honestly believed in God, good kings, and righteous wars.

It’s nothing compared to happiness.”I snorted through gritted teeth. “What happiness?”“Exactly.”“Reality interrupts—” Jaw clenching, my nostrils flared as I felt a gush of blood flow.A whisper. “Life.” His blink was slow. “The mother of all bitches.”“And the beauty?”“Its absence is duly noted.”“Only to be found by those later.”Another swipe of my cheeks. “Once they’ve suffered to the point they scream for death.”“Full circle.”His hand found mine in a gentle hold. “Pain needs to be felt.

How is Angeline?" asked Dimitri. "Is she improving?"Eddie and I exchanged glances. So much for avoiding her indiscretions. "improving how exactly?" I asked. "Improving how exactly?" I asked. "In combat, in following the dress code, or in keeping her hands to herself?" "Or in turning off caps lock?" added Eddie. "you noticed that too?"I asked. "Hard not to," he said.Dimitri looked surprised, which was not a common thing. He wasn't caught off guard very often, but then, no one could really prepare for what Angeline might do. "I didn't realize I needed to be more specific," said Dimitri after a pause. "I meant combat.

There are details about your life I really do not want to know about. You told me he taught you how to fight with weapons, but I guess I never…”“Put two and two together?” Katie grinned. “That’s not like you, detective Jules.”“I know. I guess I overlooked the gory details. Blood and guts have never been my forte. I like action. Give me Mission Impossible and CSI, but leave out the gruesome details.”They stopped upon reaching the entrance to the barn. “Roller skating disco lover turns FBI crime scene investigator. I think there’s a book waiting to be written for you.

I really love folklore. I had read a lot of faerie folklore that informed the books I wrote. I also really love vampire folklore; my eighth grade research paper was on [it]. [With this project,] it was really helpful to think about the way you can use language. When you're writing about faeries, you can't call anyone "fey"; there are certain words that become forbidden because they're actualized in what faeries do. When you write about vampires, you could think the same way about things like the word "red" or "hunger"--it's interesting to think of the ways that the words have double meanings, or different meanings that shifted.