“I know your game, little girl.” The vampire licked his fangs, swaying on his feet. “You read your little books about teenagers falling in love with thousand-year-old vamps. Our skin is supposed to sparkle like a unicorn’s arse, right? And you all get a happy ending. Wrong. Those books are crap. Come with me, and I’ll teach you about reading real literature. Hemingway, Kerouac, Bukowski—”
