“The weak grey light that serves as harbinger of red and golden dawn faintly lit my window. I fumbled for a candle, found and lit it, and by its little light saw that the rose floating in the bowl was dying. It had already lost most of its petals, which floated on the water like tiny, un-seaworthy boats, deserted for safer craft."Dear God," I said. "I must go back at once.”

“It was of grey stone, huge block set on block;but it caught the sunlight like a dolphin's back at dawn.”

“I said: "He cannot be so bad if he loves roses so much.""But he is a Beast," said Father helplessly.I saw that he was weakening, and wishing only to comfort him I said, "Cannot a Beast be tamed?”

“The merrel also knew its wing had not healed. But I could reach a great height once more before it failed me, it said. And from there I would fold my wings and plummet to the earth as if a hare or a fawn had caught my eye; but it would be myself I stooped toward. It would be a good flight and a good death. And so I eat their dead things cut up on a pole, dreaming of my last flight.”

“But--no--splendid is not the right word. they are splendid, but they are--they are so friendly. Oh dear!' she said, and looked up at him, half laughing, half embarassed. 'How childish that sounds! But so many of the beatiful things in the rooms beneath us--push you away--tell you to stand back--order you to admire and be abashed. These--these draw you in. These make you want to stay and--and have them for company. Yes, that's right. But I--I am still making them sould like a--like--sort of comfortable, though, am I not? Like a bowl of warm bread and milk and an extra pillos, and that's not it at all. They are not comfortable. Indeed, I feel that if I lived with them for long, I should have to learn to be...better, or greater, myself. If this Queen of the Heavenly Mountain looked down at me from my bedroom wall every day, soon I should have to go looking for the path to her domain. I wouldn't be able to help myself.”

“He was now suddenly hot, as hot as if he’d been in a kitchen baking cinnamon rolls in August. I already knew vampires could sweat, under certain conditions, like being chained to a wall of a house with sunlight coming in through the windows. He was sweating again now. Some of his sweat fell on me.I’ve always rather liked sweat. On other occasions when I’ve had a naked, sweating male body up against mine, I’ve tended to feel that it meant he was getting into what was going on. This usually produces a similar enthusiasm in me. Not that there was anything going on…exactly.Yet. Remember how fast and suddenly this was all happening. And if hewas in shock so was I. Maybe my brain hadn’t fully come with me in thatzap through the void, like my clothes manifestly hadn’t. With a truly masterful erection now pressed against me I turned my head again and licked his sweating shoulder.What happened next probably lasted about ten seconds. Maybe less.I don’t think I heard the sound he made; I think I only felt it. He movedhis hands again, to tip my face toward him, and kissed me. I can’t say Inoticed any fangs. I had the lingering vestige of sense not to try anythingclever with my teeth, which with a human lover I would have. But I wasnonetheless busy with tongue and hands. I wriggled a little under him. I kissed him back as he tangled his fingers in my hair. I arched up off the floor a trifle to press myself more thoroughly against him. I was undoubtedly making some noises of my own…”

“Oh,' she said, too bone-weary to pretend: 'I would far rather that I love you as I saw yesterday I do than that I had gone on worshiping you as I did not long since.' And she turned away hastily, and did not see that Little John would reach out to her; and half-running, went to Tuck's cottage, where she could pull on her half-dry clothes, and become a proper outlaw again. At least, she thought, fighting back tears, like this I am Cecil, with a place among friends, and a task to do. I am someone. I wonder if perhaps if I am no longer Cecil, I am no one at all.”