“Keep your vampire mitts off me. I'm not your friggin' blood toy.”

“You like rock?Little boy, I’m not your friend. I’m not your Dark-Hunter and I’m not your friggin’ date. You only speak to me when I ask you a question. Otherwise you keep your mouth shut, your eyes off me, and you might live long enough to get me to the French Quarter. (Zarek)”

“I don’t want to be your snack, your chew-toy, your fuck-buddy. Find a vampire to sink your fang into.”

“Jordan doesn't really care about the blood," Simon said now. "His whole thing is about me being comfortable with what I am. Get in touch with your inner vampire, blah, blah."Clary slid in next to him onto the bed and hugged a pillow. "Is your inner vampire different from your...outer vampire?""Definitely. He wants me to wear midriff-baring shirts and a fedora. I'm fighting it."Clary smiled faintly. "So your inner vampire is Magnus?”

“Well, that was fun," She said stiffly , glaring at Jax."Next time why don't you hike your leg on me like I'm a friggin tree?”

“I'm not a vampire" he snapped."Well, you drink blood to live and you have retractable fangs just like your wings. I'd say that makes you a vampire." I thought for a moment. "Or a Venezuelan fruit bat."Michael was not amused.”