One Bite Per Night Quotes

“Cornwall,” she breathed. “I cannot wait to be home again.” Her next words filled him with warmth. “Though I love Cornwall, you are my home.”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“I love you, Vincent. I think I have from the start. Do you…love me?” He sighed and raised his gaze heavenward. Surely she knew the obvious. “Look at your ring, Lydia.” As she looked down at the bauble, he listed the stones. “Diamond, emerald, amethyst, ruby, emerald, sapphire, topaz… Now what are the first letters of the jewels?” She studied the ring further then looked up at him with wide eyes brimming with tears. “Dearest! It spells dearest.” Warmth filled his heart at the passion in her voice. “Yes, Lydia, dearest. I love you. My life was bleak and miserable until you came to me and taught me the meaning of happiness. I thought it would never work for us, because I was afraid the Change would destroy your passion for life.” Lydia laughed. “I have found more enjoyment in this life than I could ever imagine. And as for passion, I have discovered it in boundless amounts, for you are my passion, Vincent.”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Taking her hands in his, he sank down to kneel before her. “I know we already are engaged, but I never went about it properly. Lydia Price, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?” Gasps permeated the room as Vincent reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out a small jewel case. He flicked the box open to reveal a golden ring filigreed with Celtic knots and adorned with a large diamond surrounded by a rainbow of other jewels. Lydia’s heart lodged in her throat even as unmitigated happiness warmed her body. “When?” The word escaped aloud before she was aware. “Now.” From another pocket in his waistcoat, Vincent withdrew a small sheaf of papers. “I have with me a marriage contract and a special license. I’ve also managed to procure a parson at this late hour.” Everyone’s gazes flew to the stranger, whose identity was now revealed. The parson yawned as if in emphasis of the inconvenience. All eyes shifted to Lydia, awaiting her reply. Her knees quaked beneath her gown, threatening to give out and topple her. “Please, Lydia,” he said achingly. “I cannot bear another night of you not being mine.” “Yes.” The word escaped her lips past the joy swelling within. As if afraid she’d change her mind, Vincent quickly slipped the elaborate ring on her third finger and rose to his feet, retaining his grip on her hand. “You’ve made me the happiest of men,” he replied.”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Taking her hands in his, he sank down to kneel before her. “I know we already are engaged, but I never went about it properly. Lydia Price, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?” Gasps permeated the room as Vincent reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out a small jewel case. He flicked the box open to reveal a golden ring filigreed with Celtic knots and adorned with a large diamond surrounded by a rainbow of other jewels. Lydia’s heart lodged in her throat even as unmitigated happiness warmed her body. “When?” The word escaped aloud before she was aware. “Now.” From another pocket in his waistcoat, Vincent withdrew a small sheaf of papers. “I have with me a marriage contract and a special license. I’ve also managed to procure a parson at this late hour.” Everyone’s gazes flew to the stranger, whose identity was now revealed. The parson yawned as if in emphasis of the inconvenience. All eyes shifted to Lydia, awaiting her reply. Her knees quaked beneath her gown, threatening to give out and topple her. “Please, Lydia,” he said achingly. “I cannot bear another night of you not being mine.” “Yes.”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Lydia gave him a sunrise so realistically portrayed that Vincent could feel its warmth upon his face and smell the wildflowers blooming in the field. Her sun did not burn him. The”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Shock waves reverberated through Vincent’s body at the pronouncement. He sucked in endless gusts of air until white spots obscured his vision. He couldn’t believe it. He had not heard correctly. One look at the duke’s pale face answered his dreaded question. The possibility of living without her was a sentence worse than death. And the torture they would put her through… As the realization hit him, he released the breath he was holding in an earsplitting shout. “No!” Vincent grasped her shoulder and pulled her against him. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.” “Silence!”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Shall I hunt you, then?” “Yes, but due to my age and power, you would never be able to catch me, so I shall make it easier for you.” He grinned rakishly. “Although, not too easy.” “And shall I bite you when I catch you?” Lydia couldn’t hold back a suggestive smile. “Angelica told me she feeds from her husband on occasion.” She licked her lips at the thought of sinking her fangs into Vincent’s neck and tangling her fingers in his moonstruck hair as his rich, powerful blood caressed her tongue. Eyeing his bare throat with desire, she was grateful Angelica had instructed everyone to dress shabbily to avoid being recognized. Now the scheme had even more delightful merit. “To do so would be considered an insult, for you would be stealing another’s power…except in the case of lovers, where it is considered a gift. In this instance, I suppose you may claim a taste as your prize.” His eyes glittered with mischief. “If you catch me.” Lovers… Lydia blinked, and Vincent was gone. “Amazing,”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Lydia? Do you feel any sort of remorse or revulsion for what we have to do to survive?” Lydia frowned as Rafael Villar’s words came back to her. Some of our kind feel that we are monsters; Deveril is one of those. Did Vincent truly believe he was a monster? He’d lived for nearly two centuries. She couldn’t imagine someone existing with such profound self-loathing for so long. Her chin lifted. No matter, she was determined to change his mind. She made sure Vincent heard the conviction of her words. “It doesn’t hurt them. We take only a pint or two at most. In fact, they seem to be quite euphoric after we’re done with them.” Lydia bit her lip. In the case of her most recent meal, “euphoric” was an understatement. Vincent nodded, though he appeared reluctant to believe her. “So you do not regret my Changing you?” “I am finding great pleasure in this existence.” Lydia willed him to see and hear the truth in her words. “My keener vision has revealed untold beauty in the night. Don’t you see it?” With a sweep of her hand, she encompassed the brilliant full moon, the silvery clouds, and the cleverly lit trees surrounding them. “I can smell the perfume of a hundred different flowers. My ears delight to hear a nightingale song, the music of human laughter. I’ve never before felt so alive.” The”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“For the first time, Vincent allowed himself to hope that the Elders would be merciful. On the heels of that thought, a deeper hope emerged. Perhaps, given time, Lydia could learn to forgive him, and maybe even love him. If he did manage to escape a death sentence, he could have an eternity to convince her. Taking”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“This is not a competition to me.” Though God help him, it had been at the start. “And I’m sorry to correct you, madam. She received five proposals. I turned them down because I want her for myself. She is a joy to know. Pity you didn’t give her a chance to realize it.”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“If only she could tell what he was thinking! Her breath caught as she remembered that some vampires could read minds. Looking deep into his eyes, she concentrated. It won’t work, Lydia. His voice spoke in her mind, tinged with amusement. No vampire worth their salt will succumb to an invasion. He laughed aloud at her astonished gasp. Regaining composure, she concentrated on him once more. We can communicate this way? Yes, it is quite useful at times. Lydia”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“A pang of despair struck Lydia at those words. No more idyllic days at the lake, with the sun on her back, casting her fishing line into sparkling water. And what about her painting? There would be no more sunrises. Fighting”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Vincent, what is happening to me?” His blue eyes were an ocean of mixed emotions. One of them was pity. “You’re Changing.” “Changing? What do you—” Lydia broke off as a new ache roared through her stomach. An alien hunger tormented her like the fires of hell. It felt as though she hadn’t eaten in days. Her mouth filled with saliva as she craved fulfillment. Footsteps”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Forgive me, Lydia,” he whispered. “I cannot let you go.” With that, he lifted his wrist and tore his own flesh with his fangs. Ignoring the pain, Vincent pressed the gaping wound to Lydia’s mouth. At first she was unresponsive, and his chest constricted in agony. “Drink, dearest one,” he begged, pressing his wrist tighter to her lips. “Please, drink. Please live.” Lydia trembled in his arms as her mouth latched onto his wound, throat working as she drank the dark magic from his veins. His heart surged in triumph as her hands reached up to grasp his arm. “Yes! That’s it!” He let her drink until white spots obscured his vision. Firmly, but gently, he extracted his wrist from her grip. “That’s enough.” She whimpered for more before her eyelids fluttered shut and she went limp once more in his arms. “Egad,”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Are you going to come quietly, or do I need to haul you out of here by the scruff of your neck like a recalcitrant schoolboy?” Vincent hissed at Lydia. She looked to the duke and duchess for aid. They seemed amused by the earl’s ire. Lydia’s fists clenched at her sides. She didn’t want to go quietly to anything. Vincent seemed to sense her reluctance and seized her arm with bruising force, following the duke as he dragged Angelica from the despicable hovel. She glanced back at Rafael Villar, and he favored her with a smirk before his amber gaze flicked to Vincent, and he nodded as if in approval. Angelica had been right; he was a scoundrel! How had he been able to notify Ian and Vincent of their whereabouts? A sodden bear of a man grabbed her. “Don’t be a spoilsport, guv’nor. Let the lad stay.” Vincent’s fist slammed into the man’s face, dropping him like a stone. Lydia gasped. She had never seen him this angry. He appeared to be fully capable of dispatching everyone else in the club with little effort. What did that bode for her? The rest of the crowd parted like the Red Sea, and Lydia, along with Angelica, was pulled out of the building with no further incident. The waiting coach crouched like a sinister beast in the shadows. Lydia tried to pull away. “Struggle one more time, and I will throw you over my shoulder and haul you into the carriage myself,” Vincent growled. His eyes glowed, looking feral in the moonlight. She swallowed a protest and climbed inside, shivering at the feel of his hand on her back. “Well,”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Vincent ground his teeth and remained still as Ian tapped his wife’s shoulder. “Mr. Winthrop! I had heard you were here, old chap.” Angelica spun around, eyes wide in astonishment—and a measure of guilt at being caught. “Your Grace!” she exclaimed in a surprisingly boyish voice. “I…that is, we…” “Are not where you are supposed to be?” Ian supplied in a helpful tone. The duchess’s gaze narrowed, and she turned around to glare at Rafe, who lounged near the edge of the ring, his match not yet due to commence. “You scoundrel! You tattled!” At”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Do you mean to tell me that right now, my ward is in an underground club, surrounded by ruffians, gambling on an illegal prizefight—which the constable could break up at any time?” Ian nodded. “Not to mention the fact that the crowd often becomes unruly after a particularly diverting match. Fisticuffs are guaranteed every night.” He rose from his seat and beckoned a servant to fetch their coats and top hats. “I suppose we ought to go fetch them now, shall we?” A haze of red encompassed Vincent’s sight as he donned his coat. “How can you be so calm about this? Our women are in danger!” “Nonsense.” Ian chuckled. “Angelica is capable of defending herself. Also, Rafe won’t let any physical harm come to them. However, I am concerned with the possibility of them being thrown into Newgate for breaking numerous laws just by being at that club.” The duke’s words faded as Vincent strode out of White’s, determined to snatch Lydia out of that hovel so fast her head would spin. He was just about to take off in a burst of preternatural speed when Ian clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We must take a hackney.” “But—” Ian waved off Vincent’s protest. “For one thing, if a duke and an earl arrive without a coach, people will take notice. For another, you cannot use your speed to remove Lydia from the club without eliciting the same response. And it simply would not do to be seen walking back to our neighborhood with Miss Price slung over your shoulder like a sack of grain.” “Very well.” Vincent inclined his head in grudging acknowledgment of Ian’s logic. The duke nodded and flagged down a coach. “And remember, we must treat them as young men. We cannot risk revealing their identities, or they truly will be in danger.” Although”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Tell me more about Makepeace.” Miss Hobson continued to smile. “He is forty-five, his income is twenty thousand per annum, and he sits a horse well.” “He is too old,” Vincent declared. “What of Threshbury?” The chaperone blinked. “Well, his title is certainly the highest, his income is twenty-three thousand, and he is only thirty-two.” Vincent frowned, though the information should please him. “He sounds like a paragon. Pray tell, does he have any faults?” “Well, he does possess two mistresses. Such is common among gentlemen. Perhaps he will pension one off after he weds.” Miss Hobson lost her cheery tone and avoided his gaze. “I won’t have Lydia wed to a lecher,” he snapped. “What do you know of the viscount?” Miss Hobson lifted her chin and replied with a hint of defiance. “He is twenty-three and fond of art. All accounts say he is a proper gentleman, and his income is more than acceptable at fifteen thousand. He and Miss Price seemed to get on well at her ball and at Almack’s.” “He is too young,” Vincent retorted. The conversation seemed to be like a snare, closing around him tighter with every word. “I am going to White’s for a pint. This damn house reeks of flowers.” An”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Lord Deveril, I humbly request Miss Price’s hand in marriage.” A red haze obscured Vincent’s sight, blurring out the scrawny lad in front of him. His fangs throbbed with the need to tear the man’s throat and drink down his life. “My lord?” Viscount Bevin asked in a voice tinged with fear. The dandy would do well to be afraid. Vincent took a deep breath and fought to keep his feral instincts under control. This man is doing right by offering for Lydia. It is as I planned. However, he could not bring himself to accept the offer immediately. “The Season has just begun, and I would like my ward to enjoy a portion of it before she settles into wedlock.” How easily those words came. The rest he had to force out. Swallowing the acrid taste in his mouth, he added, “However, I promise to consider your offer.” Briefly, a petulant frown crossed Bevin’s countenance, and Vincent’s fists clenched. Then the young lord bowed. “Thank you, my lord. May I call upon Miss Price tomorrow?” I would rather you call on the devil. Vincent gritted his teeth and nodded. “Forgive me for saying so, my lord.” Bevin peered at him with wide eyes. “You do not look well.” “It is another of my headaches. Now if you will excuse me…” Vincent turned to the window, unable to bear the sight of him a moment longer. “Aubert will see you out.” The moment Bevin departed, Vincent slumped in his chair and buried his face in his hands. He hadn’t expected Lydia to receive offers so quickly. More would be forthcoming, and he would have to accept one of them. Soon, she would be out of his life.”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Vincent’s gaze locked on Lydia’s glittering golden eyes, the flush of her cheeks, and her lush parted lips. He savored the musical passion of her voice. She was like a beacon warding off the darkness in his soul. “Would you paint her?” he blurted, realizing he must have a way to look upon Lydia after she was taken from him. Sir Thomas blinked. “Well, between her lessons, my duties at the Academy, and the upcoming exhibition—” Vincent silenced him, naming a figure that made the poor chap nearly choke on his wine. Lydia gasped, myriad emotions playing across her beloved face. “I believe that could be arranged.” Lawrence coughed, regaining composure.”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“I see my second in command is contemplating your ward. This could be a hazard.” Vincent whipped around with wide eyes. The sight of Lydia in the same room with Rafael Villar made his heart race in panic. He was uncertain of Ian’s judgment in choosing Rafe as his successor. Vincent had never met a more foul-tempered vampire. All of London’s vampires were terrified of the Spaniard. And there was Lydia, mere yards away from him. A low growl built in his throat as he strode across the ballroom. ***”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“of besotted males lined up to fill her dance card as more gathered near, like bees to a rose…or a gardenia. His fangs ached. All was going as planned. So why did he feel like striding to the dance floor, yanking Lydia from the arms of her suitor, and snapping the fop’s neck? “Lord”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“I’ve seen you giving Lord Deveril calf-eyes of late. You must abandon such a habit, else people will assume your relationship is improper… Bloody hell, I sound just like my mother.” Oh,”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“The duchess had both hands clapped over her mouth as she struggled to contain gales of laughter. Ian gazed heavenward as if praying for divine assistance in removing him from this silliness.”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Stares and whispers interrupted Vincent’s thoughts, bringing his awareness back to their surroundings. The people of London were receiving their first glimpse of Lydia. Several males gazed at her like love-struck swains, and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and stake his claim. He gritted his teeth. The more suitors she had, the better. His muscles tensed with the need to tear the fops to shreds. Lydia’s hand squeezed his bicep as he led her down the walk, and he resisted the urge to bare his fangs in triumph. Once”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“It was a sunrise. Brilliant in its array of colors, the dawn glowed on the branches of the trees, lit up the green grass, and was duplicated within a reflection on the surface of the lake. Unbidden, he reached forward as if he could feel the warmth of the dawn on his skin. How could she possibly know what this meant to him? “Do you like it?” Lydia asked with aching humility. “Very much,” Vincent spoke past the tightness in his throat. “I feel I could dive into the water, it looks so real.” Overcome with piercing emotion, he could not stop himself from pulling her into his arms any more than he could halt the tides. “Thank you, Lydia.”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Miss Price is a delightful young lady and a fine painter.” Vincent regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Ah yes, I am well aware of your scheme to throw her in the path of Sir Thomas Lawrence.” Sally shook her head vigorously. “It is not like that, my lord. We do not want him seducing her. We wanted to place him in your path so you may tell us how he fares, since we aren’t allowed to see for ourselves.” “And so she may receive the guidance she desires for her portraits,” Maria chimed in. “She is very talented for one of such youth and inexperience and—” He held up a hand. “I know what your intentions are. And I am not overly worried about the painter toying with her heart. He has to be past fifty by now—” “Fifty-three,” they both interrupted. “And balding and gout-ridden if your wishes have come true. At any rate, I would not permit her to be alone with the man for a second, and neither will her chaperone.” Maria nodded. “That woman is a dragon if I’ve ever seen the like.” “So”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“Not only did she want Vincent’s kisses, she wanted his heart. She did not want or need to go to London to find the man she would love and marry. She’d already found him. ***”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“I read a poem today that reminded me of you.” He gave her another sideways glance, as if confessing something naughty. “Would you like to hear it?” Her knees quivered beneath her skirts. Perhaps he did feel something for her. Perhaps he is now going to declare himself! “Yes, I would.” “Your chaperone is watching us from the parapets. It would be better for me to recite it more privately.” With gentle force, he guided her behind a tall hedge. Lydia’s belly fluttered as Deveril took both her hands. His hair gleamed like an angel’s wing. Would he tell her he couldn’t let her go, that they didn’t have to go to London? That instead they could remain here…together? “She walks in beauty, like the night,” he whispered. “Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.” Vincent’s eyes were like a turbulent sea in a moonlit storm. He gazed at her as though she was something precious. Lydia sighed as his long fingers removed a pin from her hair. “One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress,” Her breath caught as he twirled a lock of her hair. “Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.” His hand crept up to caress her cheek, his intent gaze never wavering. “And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow,” His lips curved in a sensual smile as he concluded. “But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!” For an eternity, they stared as if peering into each other’s souls. His fingers slid past her cheek and threaded once more through her hair, sending the remaining pins scattering into the grass. “Lydia,” he whispered. Then his lips were on hers, warm, silken, teasing. Her limbs melted. Intoxicating heat unfurled low in her body. Lydia reached up to pull him closer, to demand more. Vincent pulled back before she could grasp him. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “And that is your most important lesson in courtship, Lydia. Never allow a man to get you off alone, especially if he desires to recite poetry, and particularly Lord Byron’s verses.” A strangled gasp caught in her throat at his duplicity. It had all been part of the game! “You…you…” He held up a hand. “Now slap me with your fan in retaliation for taking such liberties.” Reeling in outrage, she fumbled in the pockets of her cloak for the ineffectual weapon. Vincent shrugged, undaunted at her ire. “That is why you should keep your fan at the ready.” Seizing the bundle of cloth-covered sticks, she smacked him soundly on the arm, much harder than Miss Hobson had instructed. “You are lucky I did not have my gun,” she hissed. How could he? To”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night

“I read a poem today that reminded me of you.” He gave her another sideways glance, as if confessing something naughty. “Would you like to hear it?” Her knees quivered beneath her skirts. Perhaps he did feel something for her. Perhaps he is now going to declare himself! “Yes, I would.” “Your chaperone is watching us from the parapets. It would be better for me to recite it more privately.” With gentle force, he guided her behind a tall hedge. Lydia’s belly fluttered as Deveril took both her hands. His hair gleamed like an angel’s wing. Would he tell her he couldn’t let her go, that they didn’t have to go to London? That instead they could remain here…together? “She walks in beauty, like the night,” he whispered. “Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.” Vincent’s eyes were like a turbulent sea in a moonlit storm. He gazed at her as though she was something precious. Lydia sighed as his long fingers removed a pin from her hair. “One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress,” Her breath caught as he twirled a lock of her hair. “Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.” His hand crept up to caress her cheek, his intent gaze never wavering. “And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow,” His lips curved in a sensual smile as he concluded. “But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!” For an eternity, they stared as if peering into each other’s souls. His fingers slid past her cheek and threaded once more through her hair, sending the remaining pins scattering into the grass. “Lydia,” he whispered. Then his lips were on hers, warm, silken, teasing.”
― Brooklyn Ann, One Bite Per Night