Desire Urges Me On As Fear Bridles

Somewhere In The Center Of My Soul, A Rusty Chain Began To Unwind. It Freed Itself, Link By Link, From Where It Had Rested, Unobserved, Waiting For Him. My Hands, Which Had Been Balled Up And Pressed Against His Chest, Unfurled With It. The Chain Continued To Drop, To An Unfathomable Depth Where There Was Nothing But Darkness And Matthew. At Last It Snapped To Its Full Length, Anchoring Me To A Vampire. Despite The Manuscript, Despite The Fact That My Hands Contained Enough Voltage To Run A Microwave, And Despite The Photograph, As Long As I Was Connected To Him, I Was Safe.

All That Children Need Is Love, A Grown-up To Take Responsibility For Them, And A Soft Place To Land.

Scholars Do One Of Two Things When They Discover Information That Doesn't Fit What They Already Know. Either They Sweep It Aside So It Doesn't Bring Their Cherished Theories Into Question Or They Focus On It With Laserlike Intensity And Try To Get To The Bottom Of The Mystery.

Be Yourself-- Matthew Clairmont. Complete With Your Sharp Vampire Teeth And Your Scary Mother, Your Test Tubes Full Of Blood And Your Dna, Your Infuriating Bossiness And Your Maddening Sense Of Smell.

You Persist In This Romantic Vision Of What It Is To Be A Vampire, But Despite My Best Efforts To Curb It I Have A Taste For Blood.