“...cursing my heels and debating whether it was faster to stop and take them off--damn ankle straps!--or keep running with the potential neck breakers. Wouldn’t that make a charming epitaph? Here lies Cat. Killed not by fang, but Ferragamos.”

“Wouldn’t that make a charming epitaph? Here lies Cat. Killed not by fang, but Ferragamos.”

“Cat cleared her throat in the tense silence that followed. “Uh, before this goes any further, let’s at least introduce ourselves to your friend. I’m Cat, and this is my husband, Bones. We’re part of Mencheres’ twisted little fang family.”

“Swear, that woman’s got a mouth on her worse than you do,” Tyler commented, following in after Bones. “Ian gave her the tiniest smack on the rear when she walked by, and she told him to—”“Ian smacked my mother on the ass?” I cut him off. At Tyler’s nod, I stopped lighting sage and grabbed a silver knife, feeling my fangs pop out of their own accord. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

“Why don't I just give you a pair of my panties to hang around your neck? Then whenever you feel jealous, you can wave them at whoever's pissing you off.”

“You'll drain me dry, but not my neck, and you'll beg me to stop before I'm finished." -Bones”

“Damn people who argued using logic. Talk about unfair. -Cat”