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Quote by Syrie James

“Drink," he said. I pressed my mouth to the wound, first lapping up the blood as it flowed out, and then sucking deeply from it. I had only tasted blood a few times before, when I had sucked on an injured fingertip. The blood I now imbibed was nothing like the mild, slightly salty liquid that ran in my own veins. Dracula's blood was delicious. It tasted like a deep, rich, full-bodied wine, with a dark, delectable tang. It was ambrosia; I felt as if I could not get enough of it. As I drank, I heard him give an ecstatic little moan. His hand cradled the back of my head and held it there, urging me to continue, while his other hand found and clasped both my hands lovingly in his.”

Quote by Syrie James

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Syrie James

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“Do you ever drink animal blood? I thought some vampires drank animal blood." He snorted. "Twilight?" I blushed. "Um. Yeah." "Listen, as kickass as I've always found Edward Cullen, an entire family of celibate vampires living only on animal blood... well." He smirked, his mask of cool indifference back in place. "None of those details apply to me." My face went hot at the innuendo.”

“But then Oma tells me of bread, of the six hundred kinds made throughout her homeland, white and gray and black in color. Loaves heavy with pumpkin seeds. Pumpernickel. Rye. All with long, dense names like 'Sonnenblumenkernbrot' and 'Roggenmischbrot'. Each word is music to her. She has never eaten a tinned bread bagged in plastic with a little twist tie, a pride she wears all over. 'It matters,' she tells me. 'Wes Brot ich ess, des Lied ich sing.' Whose bread I eat, his song I sing.”