Venom’s pupils contracted the instant before he slid his sunglasses back on.
She couldn’t help it. “Why isn’t your tongue forked?”
“Why can’t you fly?” A smirk. “Those things on your back aren’t accessories you know.

Do you know where Jason is?” she asked Dmitri when they exited the morgue. Dmitri pressed the car remote to unlock the flame red Ferrari parked in the employees-only lot. “Tired of your Bluebell already?” A tendril of champagne circled around her senses, cut with something far harder. Never had she felt that harsh edge in Dmitri’s scent. She pitied the woman he took to his bed today.
“Yeah, that’s it. I’m building a harem.

Obviously, I need to study princesses further.

Sure you can handle me, pretty, pretty Bluebell?"
"Did I ever tell you about my snakeskin boots?"
"I do think I need some new feathers for my pillow.

I can smell blood, Elena,” Dmitri drawled, walking back into the room. “Are you trying to flirt?

Dmitri clearly gives good . . . blood.