(Sookie's Thoughts on Debbie Pelt) she had been cruel to Alcide, insulted me grievously, burned a hole in my favorite wrap and—oh—tried to kill me by proxy. Also, she had stupid hair.

Oh, God, puppy dog eyes. From a six-foot-five ancient Viking vampire.

We could go back to your house. I can stay with you always. We can know each others bodies in every way, night after night. I could love you. I could work, you would not be poor. I would help you.

When I thought of the ferocity and strength of the fairy race, and the fact that it took all I had to open the damn blister pack and extricate the water pistols, my chosen method of defense seemed ludicrous. I'd be armed with a plastic water pistol and a trowel.

Vampires. They wrote the book on possessive.

If there were an international butt competition, Eric would win, hands down—or cheeks up.