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Mind out of the gutter, Trampzilla!
“Be still my non-beating heart.”
“You know, in addition to your mindreading abilities, I may have absorbed some sluttiness from your blood,”
Just call me Hannibal Lecter. With cleavage.
That problem wouldn’t wait for me to try to talk sense into my senselessly obstinate family.
Any time you want to lay off the paybacks, God, that’d be great.
“We may have another vampire on the team soon.”
“After all, I’m not doing anything you haven’t done for over a decade.”
“Call me a liar one more time”. . .each word dripping with challenge.
Vampire territorialism. It had no sense of appropriate timing.
“Lucifer’s bloody ball sack, I don’t believe it.”
“Maybe in a few more centuries, you’ll be able to outwit me, but not yet.”
“Cat, what are you doing here?”
“My sincerest apologies, mistress, for my shameful disobedience.”
“If you’re not too busy watching Hitman, I hear Dracula 2000 is a good movie.”
A brow arched. “That a dare, Kitten?”
“Don’t you dare…I’d kill or die for that man, don’t you ever think that I wouldn’t.”
“I love your hands,” he sighed. “You think I look like an angel? Well, Kitten, your hands are my heaven and your eyes are my home.”
One of the vampires gave me a hostile glare, “None of your business, Redhead”.
You. Me. Exorcist.
Tate muttered something like “I tried to warn you”. . .
“I am forever yours, Kitten, in this life or the next.”
“You owe me no apology,” Each word was enunciated as though it were its own sentence. “By neither word nor deed have you ever exploited me for your own gain, and I cannot say the same about my actions with you.”
“Happens sometimes. Very embarrassing, I don’t like to talk about it.”
“You continue to stay silent and I’ll cook your frank and beans next.”