Man, it was a good thing vampires didn't get cancer. Lately he'd been chain-smoking like a felon.

Gallows humor is part of having a doctor in the house. Deal with it.

Rehvenge, I’m talking to you more than I speak with my mahmen.”“I thought your mother was dead.”“She is.”“You have a very low standard for communication.

I'm going to stay here and see if he comes back," Wrath said as the double doors opened and V strode in. "I want the rest of you out searching for him in the city, but before you go, first let's get an update from our very own Katie Couric." He nodded at Vishous. "Katie?"V's glare was the ocular version of a fully extended middle finger

Word of advice. These have a kick, so don’t suck too hard—”Holy hypoxia, Batman.

You can call me Pastor-and before Mr. Sox Fan gets his panties in a wad, I want everyone to know I'm legit. I went online, took a minister's course in under an hour, and I'm ordained, baby.

What’s next? The size of my cock?” “Hey, even pencils can get the job done—I’ve heard the moaning from your room to prove it.

In his old life, the answer would have been easy: He'd have just put a gun to Vin's head and dragged the fucker to the altar. Now? He needed to be a little more civilized.

Just do it,'' she prompted him. Then she rolled her eyes. ''God, you've turned me intro a Nike commercial.”― J.R. Ward, Prisoner of Night