Some Girls Bite (Chicagoland Vampires #1)

Although security and warfare had never been my gig, vampire security was highly contextual and thus incredibly interesting. There were links to history (Vampires were screwed over yesterday!) and politics (House X screwed us over yesterday!), philosophy (Why do you think they screwed us over yesterday?) and ethics (If we didn’t bite, would they have screwed us over yesterday?), and, of course, strategy (How did they screw us over? How can we keep them from screwing us over again or, better yet, screw them over first?).

Anyone wanna dance?"
"I could dance I need to change, but I can dance."
"Nice going, Gandalf. You'll rile her up, and I'll never get her tucked in. You wanna give her candy and caffeine while you're at it?

Asking about someone’s animal is the shifter equivalent of pulling a ruler and asking a guy to whip it out.

A slap wouldn’t have pulled me out of the trance any faster.

As we left the kitchen, I asked, “Can I hold your sword today?”
Catcher glanced back over his shoulder and lifted a brow.
“The sword,” I corrected. “The sword.”
We’ll see.

Chapter Four : The things that go bump in the night...are probably registered voters in Cook County

Don't they feed you at Navarre house?"
"They throw out some gruel between the indoctrination sessions and propaganda films. Then we're off marching around the grounds and the recitation of sonnets to Celina's loveliness.

Do you understand what I’m offering you?"
"Do you understand that it’s not 1815?"
"It’s not unusual for Masters to have Consorts."
"Yes, and your current Consort’s in my kitchen right now. If you need . . . relieving, talk to her."
"As much as it pains me to say it, Amber isn’t you."
"I don’t even know what that means. Should I—What? Be flattered that while you don’t like me, you’re willing to sacrifice just to get into my pants?

Fair enough" I gave him. "But you've got really nice shoes."
He blinked, then cast a dubious glance at his boots. "They were in my closet." I snorted and plucked at the sleeves of his jacket.
"Please you've been planning this outfit for a week.

Give me a break, I'm trying to Gratefully Condescend.

He's twenty-nine. And what did you think he was going to look like?"
She shrugged.
"You know-old. Grizzled. Long white beard. Scruffy robes. Loveable, smart, a little absent minded."
I bit back a grin.
" I said 'sorcerer,' not 'Dumbledore.' So he's hot. It could be worse.

If you weren't taken, I'd date you myself."
"Which one of us were you talking to, hon?"
"I think she meant the [hot] dog.

I had to fight the urge to turn on him and level my sword at the shrunken black nugget of his heart.

I'm just warning you, I'm probably going to be a total hard-ass vamp."

Mallory snorted and walked out of the kitchen, calling out, "Yeah, well, you've got a purple marshmallow on your chin, hard-ass vamp.

I slid Mallory a glance. “He’s (Jeff) your test? He thinks anything with breasts looks good.”
"Since you don’t qualify, that’s why I asked him over.

I stepped back, pivoted on a heel, and swivelled my hip for a side kick. It probably seemed, to a casual observer, that I was warming up, taking a few well-aimed kicks at an inanimate object.

But in my mind, THWACK, I was kicking, THWACK, a certain Master vampire, THWACK, in the face.

I tried to tune out the sensation and, embarassed at the silvering of my eyes-I have to admit, I had a sudden, new sympathy for men faced with hiding their arousal-I squeezed them shut.

I wouldn’t say I was forward, but I made a move when I was interested.

Luc : It's time for our annual review of Rules You Disrespectful Bastards Never Follow.

Much to my dismay”—and that rang clear in the irritably flat tone of his voice—“I find I have a sudden taste for stubborn, lithe brunettes with horrible fashion sense.

Stop. That was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened."
"I could offer you more.”
"Power. Access. Rewards. You’d need be available only to me.”
"Are you asking me to be your mistress?”
"Oh, my God.”
"Is that a yes?”
"No, Ethan, Jesus. Definitely not.

Sullivan, just pick it up."
"My way is more genteel."
"Your way is more tight ass."
"Your respect for me, Sentinel, is astounding."
"I'd respect you more if you took a bite of that dog."
"You don't respect me any."
"Like I said, I'd respect you more. More than none.

They’ll respect deeds, Ethan, not words.

“Well, what?” I waved a hand at the room.
“Start genuflecting. Let’s see some knee action.”
“You’re serious.” I lifted my brows.
He responded in kind, but finally nodded his head, then walked between the couches. He dropped to one knee, then held out his hands.

“I’m monumentally sorry for the pain and humiliation that I caused you and your—”
“Both knees.”
“I’d prefer to see both knees on the ground. I mean, if you’re going to grovel, be the best groveler you can, right?

We'll see if she can rise to the occasion, do what needs to be done."
"We'll see if she can manage not to kill her Liege and Master, especially if he continues talking about her like she's not in the room.

You cannot seriously think you’re going to fight this guy. He could kick your ass with one arm tied behind his back, much less with all his voluminous vampire powers. He’s probably stronger than you, faster than you. He can probably jump higher. Hell, he can probably glamour you into making out with him right there on the mats.”

We simultaneously looked over to where Ethan, half naked, was toeing off his black leather loafers. The muscles in his abdomen clenched as he moved. So did the lines of corded muscle across his shoulders.

God, but he was beautiful.

I narrowed my gaze.

Beautiful but evil. Wicked. The repugnant dregs of foul malevolence. Or something.

“Jesus,” Mallory whispered. “I want to support your quest for revenge and all, but maybe you should just let him glamour you.” She looked at me, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh. “Either you’re fucked, or you’re fucked, right?

You do that Helen", Mallory dared. "And tell him we said to f*ck off while youre at it".

You have to call Darth Sullivan your 'Liege'?"
I grinned. "Only if I expect him to answer.

You’re crude.”
"I’m crude?”
"You just offered to make me your whore.”
"To be the Consort of a Master vampire is an honor, Initiate, not an insult.”
"It’s an insult to me. I’m not going to be your—anyone’s—sexual outlet. When that . . . happens for me, when I meet him, I want partnership. Love. You don’t trust me enough for the former, and I’m not even sure you’re capable of the latter.

You've got better boobs," I acknowledged. And just as we'd done each time we'd had this boobs-versus-legs conversation, we looked down at our chests. Ogled. Compared.