We have the same symptoms as tuberculosis, especially in the eyes of the Romantic Poets. Pale, tired, coughing up blood.”
“That’s romantic?”
I had to smile. “Romantic with a capital ‘R.’ You know, like Byron and Coleridge.”
He gave a mock shudder. “Please, stop. I barely passed English Lit.”
I snorted. “I didn’t have that option. One of my aunts took Byron as a lover.”
“Get out.”
“Seriously. It makes Lucy insanely jealous.”
“That girl is . . .”
“My best friend,” I filled in sternly.
“I was only going to say she’s unique.

Your eyes.”
“What? What?” I scrubbed at them violently, horrified at the thought they might have those gross goopy things at the edges. Or were they even more bloodshot? I’d heard of that happening, where the whites ran with blood.
“I think . . . the color’s changing.” He paused. “Is that even possible?”
“Is that all? Now you’re the one scaring the crap out of me.

You’ll have to turn your back.”
He turned slowly. The view from the back was just as good as the view from the front. I could practically hear Lucy snickering in the back of my head. I might be the vampire daughter, but she was the one who was a bad influence. No question.

You look like you belong in a bad comic book,” I told him cheerfully.
----------------------
“What did the Drakes do that’s got you all pissy?”
“Pissy? Did you just call me pissy?

Do we have a plan?'
'We fight like hell.'
'Good plan.

Okay, listen up, people,” Kieran raised his voice so that it was all gravelly and impressive. I wasn’t particularly impressed since we’d grown up together and I’d force-fed him mud pies when we were little, but it seemed to work on everyone else. Lia actually sighed.
Only a thirteen-year-old vampire hunter would get a crush in the middle of a vampire attack.
I was a little bit proud of her actually.
----------------------
His grin widened and he nudged my shoulder companionably. “I like you, kid.” (Quinn)
I tried not to groan out loud. I was as bad as Lia.
I had totally developed a crush during a vampire raid.