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Since I couldn’t kill myself without great effort, I decided to kill everyone else.
She really was classically beautiful, if you didn’t know what an evil bitch she was.
He was hot when he got all murdery. Granted, I’d only seen him murdery, but that’s how I liked my men: broody with a side of homicidal.
If juvenile jokes and sarcasm got me through, who was I to try and be something as utterly dull as mature?
His groans muffled when I attached myself to his neck, snapping the bone so I didn’t have to listen to his cries. I liked to eat in silence.
“You never insult my hair if you want live to see another moonrise,” I said casually.
I was stronger than them. And more attractive, and intelligent. Just all round better than them, really.
I pushed No Neck’s chest and sent him to the floor to appease some of my irritation. It did help.
My hair wasn’t mussed from sleep because I stayed completely still when I slept, the absence of bed head was one of the great things about being undead.
All the best parties ended in bloodshed. Clothing should be designed for that fact.
“They’re the ones who have a snapshot of time on this earth, so complicated concepts aren’t something their small brains grasp. Good versus evil is the world these people live in. It helps them forget that they’re dreadfully mortal. And the evil they’re so convinced is unique to the supernatural is much more rampant in their own race.”
“Sorry. I didn’t go to college for a teaching degree. Only evil and murder.”
“But you’re not like them.” He glanced to the remains of the woman Scott had killed. I flipped my hair. “Of course I’m not. I’ve got much better taste in wine and shoes.”
In fact, everything about him rebelled against the fact that he was a human, that he wasn’t as old as some of my handbags.
If I could find a way to expose my family and then have them executed, I considered that a victory.
“This party, will it be dangerous?” he’d asked. “Hopefully,” I’d answered. “Otherwise, it’d be horribly dull.”
“Defcon level one,” I muttered to Rick. “Brace yourself.” He stiffened until he followed my gaze, his eyes twinkling with the slightest amusement as my mother approached.
“Fine, but if you’re taking me down here to kill me, I’ll be annoyed. Though I will say, I’m dressed rather fetchingly for death.”
Acrid smoke permeated the air and, based on the hacking coughs of any humans left alive, was choking anyone in the room who needed their lungs to breathe. Luckily, I needed them for swearing purposes only.
Pleading? In the face of death. That was just embarrassing.
I forgot how utterly exciting it is with you around, Isla. You make the French Revolution seem like a night at the library.”
The grave did not cater to such pious emotions as love, nor listen to promises whispered on the eve of the battle.
One wasn’t ignorant to their own demise, when death was no longer outside and foreign but inside and familiar.
