Dmitri clearly gives good . . . blood.

I can smell blood, Elena,” Dmitri drawled, walking back into the room. “Are you trying to flirt?

Do you know where Jason is?” she asked Dmitri when they exited the morgue. Dmitri pressed the car remote to unlock the flame red Ferrari parked in the employees-only lot. “Tired of your Bluebell already?” A tendril of champagne circled around her senses, cut with something far harder. Never had she felt that harsh edge in Dmitri’s scent. She pitied the woman he took to his bed today.
“Yeah, that’s it. I’m building a harem.

You refused to fall in love with anyone else, Dmitri.” A whisper with the impact of a gun-shot. “So I had to come back for you . . . husband.

Flirt with him if you want, Honor, but you're mine.

Sara held up a hand. 'How exactly did you "decline" his offer?'
'By slitting his throat.