But I don't want to be a vampire drone.' Sophronia winced. 'They'll suck my blood and make me wear only the very latest fashions.

Alexia found herself surrounded and embraced by a room of such unmitigated welcome and personality that it was akin to being yelled at by plum pudding.

It was difficult to see the exact nature of his expression as, in addition to the ubiquitous mustache, the clockmaker also wore a golden-brown beard of such epic proportions as might dwarf a mulberry bush. It was as though his mustache had become overly enthusiastic and, seized with the spirit of adventure, set out to conquer the southern reaches of his face in a take-no-prisoners kind of way.

I mean to say, really, I am near to developing a neurosis - is there anyone around who doesn't want to study or kill me?"Floote raised a tentative hand."Ah, yes, thank you, Floote.""There is also Mrs Tunstell, madam," he offered hopefully, is if Ivy were some kind of consolation prize."I notice you don't mention my fair-weather husband.""I suspect, at this moment, madam, he probably wants to kill you."Alexia couldn't help smiling. "Good point.

Highland werewolves had a reputation for doing atrocious and highly unwarranted *things*, like wearing smoking jackets to the dinner table.

Alexia sighed. "It is times like this I wish I could talk to my mother.""Good gracious, what good would that do, madam?" Floote was moved to speak by the outrageousness of Alexia's statement."Well, whatever she said, I could simply take the opposite point of view.

She investigated further: moving along with little kisses down his throat and over his collarbone until she came to the same location on his neck that on hers was currently a decorative black and blue color. She bit him. Hard. Alexia never did anything by halves.