She hesitated. "You know I'm older than you, right?" Richard stared down at her and forced himself not to laugh at the irony. He may be over two hundred years old, but he looked as if he were in his late twenties, thirty at the most. And Jenna was worried that her being thirty-seven would be a problem? A hint of insecurity entered her features. "I don't mean to press this, but... I dated a guy once--- very briefly---who said the same thing until his friends found out and started to razz him about it. I'm thirty-seven. Are you sure that isn't a problem?"" I don't know why his friends would tease him about dating you unless they were envious. You look like you're in your twenties, Jenna. Not much older than your son, in fact. And, if you looked like you were in your forties, guess what. I would be just as interested." She smiled and closed the distance between them. "And if I looked like I were in my fifties?"" Still interested."" Sixties?"" I happen to think laugh lines are hot.

— Dianne Duvall

She smiled as she imagined that the sun’s last rays were flames from a distant dragon.

— Kim Cormack

Soundlessly whispering into the void, my lips moving quickly, silently, without ceasing. Calling his name, calling him to me. Even though there's no use. Even though it's futile. Even though it's way past too late.

— Alyson Noel

The shade of the sky changed ever so slightly in her peripheral vision. She raised her eyes from her toes to the horizon, to witness the sun’s last dance in the daylight as it began to descend slowly, magically into the distant sea. Exotic pastel hues of orange and fuchsia were now painted across the fading expression of the day. It was a calm yet isolating vision to take into her heart, for it made her feel tiny in the grand scheme of things.

— Kim Cormack

The sun had now set the sky ablaze with glorious hues of orange. She squinted to focus on the brilliance and thoughts of distant fire breathing dragons lit up her imagination once again.

— Kim Cormack

They all seem infected with a vivaciousness that isn't common in our compound, and there are more smiles on their faces than I've ever seen at once. And yet as I watch them, I feel more intensely than ever the knowledge that I'm not one of them. For these moral humans, birthdays are a kind of countdown to the end, the ticking clock of a dwindling life. For me, birthdays are notches on an infinite timeline. Will I grow tired of parties one day? Will my birthday become meaningless? I imagine myself centuries from now, maybe at my three-hundredth birthday, looking all the way back to my seventeenth. How will I possibly be happy, remembering the light in my mother's eyes? The swiftness of Uncle Antonio's steps as he dances? The way my father stands on edge of the courtyard, smiling in that vague, absent way of his? The scene shifts and blues in my imagination. As if brushed away by some invisible broom, these people whom I've known my entire life disappear. The courtyard is empty, bare, covered in decaying leaves. I imagine Little Cam deserted, with everyone dead and gone and only me left in the shadows. Forever.

— Jessica Khoury

Vampires are fond of their games. But the games that They play are different from the variants that I'm familiar with. The rules were made to be bent, broken, shattered—and somebody always gets hurt. Always.

— Nenia Campbell

What? You don't think I'm perfect?" I can't resist, because he gets so riled whenever I bring it up. "I can run up to thirty miles without stopping. I can jump six feet in the air. There is not a material in this world sharp enough to pierce my skin. I cannot drown or suffocate. I am immune to every illness known to man. Furthermore, I have perfect memory. My senses are more acute than anyone else's. My reflexes rival those of a cat. I will never grow old" - my voice falls, all smugness gone -"and I will never die.

— Jessica Khoury

When her gaze landed upon his lips, he scooted closer and brushed his mouth over hers. Fire ignited low in his belly and desire coursed through his veins. No doubt, his John Thomas was doing all the thinking; he knew he should listen to the head between his shoulders, the one telling him this was a mistake, but the one between his legs was more insistent.

— D.A. Rhine

When we get there, don’t go in huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf.

— J.L. Sheppard