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Vampire Romance Quotes

Browse 183 quotes about Vampire Romance.

Vampire Romance Quotes

“Since she had arrived for her stay at the artists’ colony called Les Beaux Arts at the Chateau DeRoche, she’d noticed something different about the owner, Antoine Chevalier. And not just the way his eyes bore into hers, shooting shivers through her and making it difficult to breathe. His quiet nature, his preference for seclusion for days at a time, and his still, composed temperament belied an intensity within. Noir eyes that rarely blinked spoke of haunted depth and smoldering passion.”

“I think," he said at last, "that you are very clever, and clever people such as yourself often think there are answers to all questions. But alas, I was not clever in life, and am even less clever in death. I have no answer that would satisfy you. I believe there are some questions, like the whys and hows of love, that are ineffably beautiful because they have no answer. I was empty once, and your companionship has made me whole. I cannot explain why. Can you accept that?”

“The hat was hideous, but the man could wear a garbage bag as a dress and look amazing. Truly unfair. "Green matches your complexion." He placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "My complexion? You wound me," he said in a theatrical voice I didn't think he had in him. I was just about to tell him the chicken hat matched his complexion even better”

“His fangs scraped lightly over her skin and then, with a low groan, he gave in to the need coursing through him. She moaned softly, her body sagging against his as the world went red. There was no pain and, oddly, no fear, only a remarkable sensual euphoria. She closed her eyes, drifting, falling into velvet blackness that threatened to sweep her away into oblivion.”

“But there's a price." "Oh?" She knew what it would be, felt her whole body come alive in anticipation. "Yes," he said. "Exactly that." She forgot everything when he drew her into his arms, everything but the wonder and the magic of his touch, the intoxication of his kisses, the sting of his fangs that should have been painful but filled her with sensual pleasure. She wrapped her arms around his neck when he carried her to her bed, her hands clumsy in their haste as she undressed him. He was so beautiful, his body perfectly formed, his belly ridged with muscle, his limbs long and lean. He watched over her, his eyes hot, as she removed her own clothing, then covered his body with hers. They fit together well, she thought, her body somehow molding to his. She ran her hands over him, loving the play of emotions on his face as her hands caressed him. He gave her free rein until, with a growl of impatience, he tucked her beneath him. She felt the sweet sting of his fangs at her throat as he possessed her with a fierceness he had never shown before. "Mine." His voice whispered in her ear, echoed off the walls. "Mine!”

“Kadie stared at Saintcrow. He was taller than Vaughan, broad-shouldered, and lean-hipped, with an air of confidence and authority that was almost tangible. He wore black jeans, black boots, and a black silk shirt open at the throat. His inky black hair brushed the collar of his jacket; his eyes were like deep pools of ebony. A thin white scar ran from the outer corner of his left eye, down his cheek, and disappeared under his shirt collar. Power radiated from him, making the short hairs rise along her arms. Even if no one had told her what he was, she would have known he wasn't human. Saintcrow took Kadie's hands in his. "I regret that I was not able to welcome you when you arrived," he said. Kadie nodded. His voice moved over her like a caress, deep and whiskey smooth. Eyes narrowed, Saintcrow took hold of the black scarf hanging out of her back pocket and tossed it aside. "I rather fancy her," he said. "You don't mind if I borrow her for a while, do you, Vaughan?" It wasn't really a request, not the way he said it. Clenching her hands into fists, Kadie sent a pleading glance to Vaughan. He looked at her, his eyes filled with pity. "As you wish, my lord," he said, and vanished from sight. Kadie stared at Saintcrow. She had been afraid of Vaughan, but that was nothing compared to the terror that gripped her when Saintcrow looked at her through those fathomless black eyes. "Come along, Kadie Andrews." His gaze burned into hers, hotter than hellfire, yet strangely compelling. When he held out his hand, she dared not refuse. With a predatory smile, his fingers- long and incredibly strong- closed over her own. A rush of preternatural power surrounded her. It was like being caught in the center of a tornado. The world spun out of focus. Darkness swallowed her.”

“Wrapping her arms around herself in an age-old feminine gesture, she dared a glance at Saintcrow. "What are you going to do with me?" She had intended to speak boldly; instead, her voice came out sounding frightened as she felt. Belonging to Darrick Vaughan was suddenly very appealing. "What does any man want with a woman?" She didn't like the sound of that at all. Gathering her courage, she lifted her chin. "You're not a man." "You think not?" He took a step toward her. "Shall I prove it to you here and now?" "No!" His deep black eyes lit up with amusement.”

“Taking her by the hand, he led her to the high-backed sofa in front of the fireplace and drew her down beside him, his arms sliding around her shoulders to hold her close. "Time for a taste," he said, and bent his head to her neck. "No!" Panic surged through her. She tried to wriggle out of his hold, but his arm, as hard and unyielding as iron, held her fast. She gasped when she felt the faint sting of his fangs at her throat. His mouth was incredibly hot against her skin. He was drinking from her. She expected to feel revulsion, disgust, horror. Instead, a delicious warmth spread through her whole body, pooling deep within her, culminating in a rush of unexpected sensual pleasure that stole the breath from her body. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she grabbed a handful of his hair to hold him in place, afraid he would take his mouth away. She moaned softly, heard his soft chuckle as he ran his tongue along her neck, and then drank again. She was lost, she thought, lost in a world of sensation unlike anything she had ever imagined. It was almost beyond bearing. If only he would stop. If only he would never stop.”

“Eyes blazing with desire, he said, "Tell me. Tell me what you want." "You know what I want." "Say it." "I want you to make love to me. Here, now." He growled low in his throat as he lowered her to the rug in front of the hearth. His hands made short work of getting rid of her clothing and then his own. Soft sounds of delight rose in her throat as she ran her hands over him. In spite of the scars that marred his chest, he was very beautiful, each muscle sharply defined as though sculpted by an artist's hand. His skin was cool beneath her questing fingertips as she explored the width of his shoulders, his six-pack abs, the long, ridged scar that ran the length of his back.”

“Saintcrow watched her for several minutes, admiring her curvy bottom, the way the moon cast silver highlights in her hair, the sound of her heart as it began to beat fast. All his predatory instincts came to life as he watched her run away from him. Yanking off his boots and socks, he pursued her. She let out a squeal when he grabbed her to the ground, twisting at the last minute so that she landed on top of him. She stared down at him, breathless, a hint of fear in her eyes. He took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance of her hair and skin, the tempting scent of her blood. Cupping the back of her head, he kissed her. The salty smells of sea and sand clung to her skin. He tasted it on her lips. She moaned softly as he rolled over, tucking her beneath him. She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer. And all the while, she made little hungry sounds deep in her throat. Holding her close, he whisked them up into the hills above the bay. Removing his long leather coat, he held her to his chest with one arm while he spread his coat on the ground, then lowered her onto it. With hands that moved faster than her eyes could follow, he removed her clothing and his own, and then he gathered her body to his, his hunger for her blood, his longing for her body, merging in a maelstrom of desire that would not be ignored. She writhed beneath him, as eager as he, her hands roaming over him, now caressing him, now raking her nails across his back, down his chest. With a low growl, he buried himself deep within her, felt her answering cry of pleasure as desire engulfed them.”

“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.”

“Until she walked into my life I was simply a violin of rusted notes. In one night she rearranged the mess inside me, exposing the symphony was there all along it just needed a conductor to make my pulse compose to the harmonies of her celestial touch. Those notes are strung up neatly now, the five lines of the stave crammed with adulation, filling sheets, unleashing a sonata of adoration, drumming my heart and strumming my veins.”

“I'm twenty-nine, happily single and getting it on a regular basis' I said, enjoying the way their thin lips hung open in an impressive O. 'Well I've never,' Jane gasped. 'Clearly. You should try it some time. I understand Mr Smith is so vision impaired you might have a shot there.' Their appalled shrieks were music to my ears and I quickly made my escape.”

“His hair was shorter than I remembered, tawny in this half-light, the tousled edges casually framing the clean, commanding lines of his face. His mouth, normally so stern was relaxed now and as I stared a slight sweet smile touched his lips, its curve softening the straight strong lines of his nose and brow. Finally, inevitably, I met his eyes and felt a connection that seared straight through me, down through my soles and away. Those eyes, darker than mine, the darkest blue, dark and as impenetrable as glaciers. Tonight he was real, so very real that my heart thumped, my blood sang, my legs shook.”

“I smelled blood. You were hurt." And then, with a hesitation in his voice I had never heard from him before: "I... don't like the idea of you being hurt." My heart hammered in my rib cage at the reluctant admission. He'd been about to rip that kid's head off. All because he thought I might have been injured. How was I supposed to process this? It had been a wild, indefensible reaction to a negligible injury. So why did I find his going feral like that one of the hottest things I'd ever experienced? If he'd reacted like this when I'd barely hurt myself, what might he do if I were really threatened?”

“Sam didn't need to hear the rest of it--- which was that before heading to the recycling center I planned to watch a few episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. For research--- or so I told myself. The show had to be wildly inaccurate when it came to vampire details, but after two days of processing what had happened with Frederick the other night, my panic over the situation was fading. And my curiosity was growing. What was it like to be an immortal who drank human blood? Did Frederick's heart beat? What were the rules governing how he lived and ate... and died? It wasn't much, but without getting back in touch with Frederick himself, Buffy was about all I had for guidance. It had to be more accurate representation of vampires than Twilight or those old Anne Rice novels, right? Plus, it was an enjoyable show. The fact that Buffy also showed romantic human-vampire relationships had absolutely nothing to do with my interest, of course. Neither did the fact that I hadn't been able to get Frederick's pleading eyes, or his assurances that he would never hurt me, out of my head since the morning I first woke up on Sam's couch.”