To say I had some pent-up anger would be like saying Britney Spears had minor impulse-control issues.

The scent of growth, quiet and green, hung heavy in the air. I heard everything. I saw everything. I could count the craters on the moon. I could count every mosquito buzz past, bypassing my tender skin out of respect for a fellow bloodsucker.

I think the very word stalking implies that you're not supposed to like it. Otherwise, it would be called 'fluffy harmless observation time'.

I am your sire. I am to guide you through your first days as a vampire. Your first feeding is a rite of passage, a sacrament. It will not be wasted on some hormone-driven frenzy. This is why I wanted you to feed from me.”
“I will not drink it in a house, I will not drink it with a mouse. I will not drink it here or there, I will not drink it anywhere,” I wheezed, hoping I was able to communicate adequate sarcasm through the crippling belly cramps.
“Did you just quote Green Eggs and Ham?

And how is Jamie doing?"

"Fine. He seems to be spending a lot of time in the shower," I noted quietly, my voice so low that even Jamie's super hearing couldn't pick it up.

Dick chuckled, followed by Zeb and Gabriel.

"What?"

"Remember that summer I turned thirteen and my mom complained that she couldn't ever get me out of the bathroom?" Zeb asked.

"Yeah, but that's because you were-" I slapped my hand over my mouth. "Oh!"

"Welcome to the wonderful world of parenting," Zeb said. ""It's one big, horrifying miracle."

"Augh!" I grumbled.

I’ve never done this before. I didn’t go to human bars. Mudslides aside, I’m not much of a drinker. Club people are not my people. Now, book-club people—