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Besides, I don’t like blood unless I’m drinking it. Even then I’m a picky bitch.
I’d loved once, but then she turned out to be off her rocker more than I am, so I skedaddled right on out of that relationship. I haven’t been in a serious one since, but I’ve remained what you might call a romantic at … well, I don’t have a heart so I’m not sure where exactly. But it’s there. Somewhere.
Vampirism isn’t a cure for everything, and my shit eyesight carried over when I was changed. It’s not entirely a bad thing since I can pull off a pair of glasses like nobody’s business.
I hope most people will never know the excruciating pain of walking into a room and having one of the most important people in their life not recognize them.
frankly, men are like plants, if you don’t water them, they’ll die, and I don’t have a green thumb.
Humans think they want to live forever, but being immortal can be so fucking tiresome.
“I think...” His humerus bone snaps under my shoe. “...that I don’t want a filthy creature like you...” His fingers crunch with ease in my hand. “...touching what belongs to me.”
“A divine angel like her is a blessing to the eyes and you are nothing but lowly trash unworthy of looking upon her,”
There are days I relish in the sound, but today I want Celine back in my sights as soon as possible. It makes me twitchy not having her nearby. Like I’ve lost something vital, and I’ll be the one bleeding out on the ground without it.
I can’t throw him over the balcony as much as I’d love for Humpty Dumpty here to have a great fall.
I’ve spent enough centuries on this planet to have learned the art of patience, but I find with Celine Brennan it’s non-existent. Lust, intrigue, and obsession are driving my brain.
I’m practically humping her like a dog, and I’d let her leash me any day.
Whether she is or isn’t, I’m into what she’s into. Whatever she wants I’ll give her. Except another man. I’d kill him before I’d let another man ever touch her.
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” I flirt, but mean every word. Being the one to bring a spark back to her soul will give me purpose.
Children are one of my least favorite things with their whining, screaming, and messiness but it can usually be blamed on shitty parenting. My one exception for a crotch goblin is if Celine wants children. I’ll give her as many as she desires. I look forward to practicing the baby making. Wait. Babies. Celine. I need to write that down. Pulling my trusty notebook and pen out of my pocket I lick my finger and flip it open to a new page. Quickly scribbling, Breed Celine, under a new list titled Goals in my long life with Celine.
My sweet girl is worried about me, when all that’s wrong is me wanting to take her to pound town and mark her as mine.
He grabs my finger so quickly I can barely react and nips at it. I try to pull away, but he refuses to let go. “Lockwood. Zavier Lockwood. L-O-C-K-W-O-O-D. Why aren’t you writing this down? It’s going to be your last name one day, too.” His grin is downright wicked.
Skip everything and go straight to fucking her senseless - My favorite
“Favorite book? Mine’s Fifty Shades of Grey.” “Same.” “Zavier!” “Celine.” His white teeth are showing in a full faced smirk now. “You’re just repeating whatever my answer is.”
“I’ll take the couch.” She announces suddenly and I have to resist the urge to hold my hand to my chest like a Victorian child with the plague. “I think the fuck not,” I refute.
“You were made for me, Celine. This is fated. We were fated and I’ll thank the universe for giving you to me every single damn day.”
“Pretty sure you’re getting seconds, are you?” I tease. He growls, biting the crook of my neck. His fangs have receded for now. “I’m getting forever, love.”
“Say it again, baby. Say my name.” “Zavier,” I moan when his thumb finds my clit. “Fuck. My name has never sounded so good.”
“Look how good you take me,” he murmurs. “This pussy was made for my cock. Nobody else will have you.” Thrust. “Ever.” Thrust. “Again.” Thrust.
