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what’s a girl to do when the only constant presence during the last millennium of her life has been a guy who’s contractually mandated to murder her?
Fuck him and his dry-cleaning bill.
“Flushed and plump and beautiful.
Slayers, too, were unlikely to make a big fuss over some light stabbing.
He was bleeding profusely, and the scent of it wafted up, strong, metallic, divine.
“We can make out later, no?”
My mother didn’t raise a quitter.
My favorite part of being in the convent, of course, was the taste of sisterhood it gifted me.
Most vampires are extremely territorial.
Vampires suck—no pun intended—and
My motto is: If I have to suck someone dry every few weeks, why not make it a Goldman Sachs executive?
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I enjoyed the four seasons, the museums and movie theaters, the scent of the eateries I would never step foot into.
Teenage Dirtbag Vampire
Kill him now. Kill. Him. Now.
mortal enemies, but only professionally.
Where is his self-preservation?
Next song up is about how lonely I am, and how sad that I haven’t gotten laid in at least three hundred years.
“What is this gluten that everything seems to be free of?”
What a time to be undead.
The thing about immortality is, it’s almost impossible not to build vast amounts of generational wealth.
I’m not sure I even remember how to boil water.
I guess Lazlo is wearing a towel around his hips. But spiritually, culturally, metaphysically, he feels naked.
I have to grab the edge of the sink so tight, I’ll never get my security deposit back.
Sometimes I’m lonely.
Vampires don’t sleep.
“We can’t sleep together.” “Are there laws against it?” “No.” “Then we sleep together.”
“I just hope you have nice feet.” “Why?” 49 “You’re going to have to sell lots of pictures of them to afford a divorce lawyer.”
Oh my God. Is that a stake in his pocket, or is he just glad to see me?
I’m starting to find it more amusing than irritating, the way he states things about me instead of asking questions, and that worries me a bit.
my body has already gotten used to being surrounded by his.
Vampires don’t blush.
particularly garlicky Olive Garden dishes have no effect on us,
“Your fates are already intertwined.”
I’ve kissed and been kissed by many people.
“You don’t even know who I am. You don’t remember who you are. This is— I am basically deceiving you, and—” “I know that. You are odd. And a terrible liar, and not good at being secretive. But I don’t care.”
get wine drunk
“He was a very kind man. A rare thing.” “Kind men?” “Kindness, in general.”
“If I wanted you dead, you would be dead.”
“I have lots of free time. Very few interests. Just the one, really.”
“Because you suddenly found me cute or something?” “I didn’t suddenly find you anything. I always knew you were . . . cute.”
“You stabbed me. As recently as Berlin.” His eyebrow lifts. “And you impaled me in Colombia. Aethelthryth, for people like us, that’s the equivalent of pinching. And after a while, hunting you became the only way to be close to you. I wanted to spend time with you, but I could only do it as the slayer tasked with bringing an end to your bloodline.”
Sex and blood have always lived in two separate buckets for me.
This is messy and uncoordinated and unlike anything else.
At this age, I thought my body would hold no more surprises for me. No new feelings. I was wrong.
We talk. We kiss. We touch.
