Best 696 quotes in «vampire quotes» category

IT IS SAID that time is unrelated to everything else. It goes on and on, unnoticing of our actions, our falls, our triumphs. Who’s to care then, if time does not remember us? It flies by, fleeting, inattentive and disinterested in any occupants of this earth. What are we, then, if time thinks so little of everyone it passes? Time is truly apathetic to the many to whom a little empathy would mean so much. ~April~ Disarming Reign of Blood

I took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. He won't hurt me, I silently reminded myself. 'Never,' Archer said, shaking his head. 'I'll never hurt you again, Skye.

It’s a cruel joke of the universe that the one person who makes me come alive is himself dead. And evil. His very existence defies all moral laws and all known laws of physics.” ~Juliette

It's a good day to do great things!

It’s a new era at the Chateau.” Antoine said with a wry smile. “Never thought I’d have a wolf shifter here as a guest.” “Never thought we’d have a gargoyle rock star.” Cameron nodded at Dante.

It's a sweet setup, I'll admit. For all that the maids STILL show up each day with jumbo crucifixes, jumpy movements, and red eyes from crying over the short straw that drew them vampire duty.' Yesterday, she'd just stopped herself from raising her clenched hands above her head and chasing one of them around the room groaning, 'I vant to suck your blood.

It’s a vampire cabal and I’m feeling like the odd human out…or lunch.

It's entirely possible that there are memories you have buried or repressed, memories formed when you were too young to have a conscious recollection of them, that Brother Jeremiah can reach. It could help us a great deal.

It’s supernatural, hard to explain it any further.

It takes a few days for the transformation to be complete, depending on how much venom is in the bloodstream, how close the venom is to the heart. As long as the heart keeps beating, poison spreads, healing, changing the body as it moves through it. Eventually the heart stops, and the conversion is finished. But all the time, every minute of it, a victim would be wishing for death

It was about time she woke up to reality and realized that there was more to being a vampire than just feeding from blood.

It was a myth, a fantastical portrayal of my mentor himself, his legend forever anchoring itself to history in a way mine will never be. Spring Heeled Jack, the boogeyman with eyes like fireballs who could jump unnaturally high. Breathing blue flames he'd ravage women with his claws.

It was as if this night were only one of thousands of nights, world without end, night curving into into night to make a great arching line of which I couldn't see the end, a night in which I roamed alone under cold, mindless stars.

It was getting difficult to see exactly what was going on in the pool and a fourth officer jumped in as one came up with the unconscious form of the first cop. While others pulled the half-drowned man from the pool, three more wrestled Skorzeny to the surface and dragged him to the steps at the shallow end of the pool. He wasn't struggling any longer. Nor was he breathing with any apparent difficulty. The biggest of the three cops later admitted to punching him as hard as he could in the stomach and Skorzey doubled over. Another half-dragged him, still on his feet, shirt torn, jacket ripped, out of the pool and put a handcuff on his left wrist. Skorzeny pulled his arm away from the cop and, suddenly straightening, elbow-jabbed him in the gut, sending him sprawling and rolling back into the pool. Skorzeny turned toward the back fence and was now between the pool and a small palm tree. Before him were two advancing officers, pistols leveled. Behind him two more circled the pool. Skorzeny lunged forward and all fired simultaneously. The noise was deafening. Lights in neighboring houses began to go on. Skorzeny's body twitched and bucked as the heavy slugs ripped through his body. His forward momentum carried him into the officers ahead of him and he half-crawled, half-staggered to the southeast corner of the yard where another gate was set into the fiberglass fencing. Two more officers, across the pool, cut loose with their pistols, emptying them into this writing body which danced like a puppet. Another cop fired two shots from his pump-action shotgun and Skorzeny was lifted clean off his feet and slammed against the gate, sagging to the ground. En masse from both ends of the pool they advanced, when he gave out with a terrible hissing snarl and started to rise once more. All movement ceased as the cops, to a man, stood frozen in their tracks. Skorzeny stood there like some hideous caricature, his shredding clothing and skin hanging like limp rags from his scarecrow form. His flesh was ripped in several places and he was oozing something that looked like watered-down blood. It was pinkish and transparent. He stood there like a living nightmare. Then he straightened and raised his fist with the cuff still dangling from it like a charm bracelet. 'Fools!' he shrieked. 'You can't kill me. You can't even hurt me.' Overhead, the copter hovered, the copilot giving a blow-by-blow description of the fight over the radio. The police on the ground were paralyzed. Nearly thirty shots had been fired (the bullets later tallied in reports turned in by the participating officers) and their quarry was still as strong as ever. He'd been hit repeatedly in the head and legs, so a bulletproof vest wasn't the answer. And at distances sometimes as little as five feet, they could hardly have missed. They'd seen him hit. They stood frozen in an eerie tableau as the still roiling pool water threw weird reflections all over the yard. Then Skorzeny did the most frightening thing of all. He smiled. A red-rimmed, hideous grin revealing fangs that 'would have done justice to a Doberman Pinscher.

It was cold, dark & lonely in the great cathedral-like chambers, with only coffins and corpses for company.

It was darker in the tower than any place Devnee had ever been. The dark had textures, some velvet, some satin. The dark shifted positions. The dark continued to breathe. The breath of the tower lifted her clothing like the flaps of a tent, and sounded in her ears like falling snow. It's the wind coming through the double shutters, Devnee told herself. But how could the wind come through? There were glass windows between the inside and outside shutters. Or were there? The windows weren't just holes in the wall, were they? What if there was no glass? What if things crawled through those open louvers, crept into the room, blew in with the cold that fingered her hair? What creatures of the night could slither through those slats? She had not realized how wonderful glass was, how it protected you and kept you inside. She knew something was out there.

It was humanoid in form but it was certainly not a person. Its big upside-down teardrop shaped head was covered in blood yet I could still see it pulsating as if there was a big heart stuck inside its forehead, next to the brain, aching to pop out.

It was incredible. It was like he was fucking her with his eyes, his teeth, and his cock. She was triply screwed, maybe even screwed quadruple when she took into account her brain because there was a total mind fuck happening here, too.

It wasn't just my beast's hunger, but Jean-Claude's blood thirst and Richard's craving for flesh. It was all that and the ardeur running through all of it, so that one hunger fed into the next in an endless chain, a snake eating it's own tail, an Ouroboros of desires.

It was time to take what he wanted. And what he wanted was her.

It was only that night, dreaming forbidden dreams of Laurence and the clear attraction he had already displayed towards her, that the dream was disturbed. She woke to pain, her eyes and mouth flashing open in a wordless scream as two strong fangs pierced her neck. A body lay across hers, warm and strong as she felt the life being sucked out of her. The moment he knew she was awake, Laurence had pulled back from feeding and smiled at her with a bloody grin. ‘You are mine now, Shiloh. You may never leave this house until the day I die.’ He had warned her, planting a tormenting kiss on her lips before resuming his feed.

It was past eight on a Friday night, so calling the Homeward to speak to Dr. Casbus was out of the question. The head nurse would never bother him this late. A sly idea struck me. Just because I couldn’t call the doctor, didn’t mean I couldn’t go see him in person. I’d gone to the Homeward at night before. On those nights when I’d been afraid for my mother, afraid she’d be scared, or missing me, or they would be hurting her with their treatments. The head nurse, Mrs. Huds didn’t like it, but Casbus always showed up to save me from her lecture on rules. He didn’t let me have a room to stay in—it wasn’t the Holiday Inn, but he’d let me stay long enough to dial down my fears a notch or two. And sometimes, I learned more about myself, like the last after-hours session, when Casbus had explained why I had holes in my memories.

It you taste nice I may bite!

I’ve been so careful my whole life that I don’t even want to imagine what I’ve missed.” Sara realized she was speaking so quickly she hadn’t taken a breath, and suddenly felt lightheaded. “I can’t miss you.

I’ve been trying to take things slowly because I didn’t want to scare you with the intensity of how I feel.

I wanted to apologize but what could I say? I’m sorry but I’m afraid my fangs might freak you out. Oh and by the way my eyes sort of glow in the dark when I get excited. I hope you’re cool with that.

I was 17 years old when I was killed by a vampire"-Ruby Kennedy from My Handsome Vampire.

I want to pick up a few other items at the house,” Jules said as Katie stepped around the car. “I still have my roller skates and yours in my closet.” Katie opened the door and paused, staring at Jules. “What?” Jules asked. “Are you serious? Our lives are in danger and you want to get our roller skates?

I was only trying to survive,” she mumbled, as if it made any difference. It was no excuse to use against someone who had truly been trying to survive, and Damian had done so quite successfully since 1450. What right had she to say that it was hard?

I was starting to hate my sixteenth birthday. A poufy white dress and a cake with roses made out of pink icing and awkward dancing with boys in awkward suits was starting to sound like a great alternative. Seriously. Sign my up, I wouldn't even complain.

I wish I could," laughed the vampire. "How positively delightful. I should like to pass through all manner of different keyholes and feel the tickle of their peculiar shapes. No." He shook his head. "That is, how would you say today . . . bullshit?

Liz wrenched her hand from his grasp, and this time, she stepped boldly forward. “I will stay and Michael can go.”  Her voice did not waiver as she pronounced her own death sentence. No matter what happened to her, she knew she couldn’t let him die.

Long ago there was a little boy who lived in the wood with his father and his sister. One night, the three of them were out collecting firewood when they heard a low, delicate whimper. The father realised it was an injured animal and ordered the children to fetch water from the lake, whilst he followed the sound. Hours past but the father did not return. The children became fearful for their father’s safety and in their moment of fright, they disobeyed their father in order to find him. And find him they did. However, he was no longer the man he once was. Both his eyes were slit through their centre, oozing blood down the paleness of his face. His neck had been torn open. The entirety of his midsection was split but nothing, not one, single organ, seemed to be left within. Each limb still remained, however they had been dragged, with some exceptional force, in the opposite direction to which they were designed. The children screamed and ran, though the image of their father’s mangled corpse seemed to chase after them. They slept. Within the whisper of the wind came the sweet tune of a woman’s song. The little girl awoke to the feeling of happiness, security and motherly love that the song carried with it. She needed to find the woman it had come from. Leaving her brother, she took off into the wood to try and find the singer. The little boy quickly entered into a spit of panic when he found his sister missing. He didn’t know whether he should call out for her, look for her or wait. But waiting could mean the worst, he thought, and so he took off into the woods after her. He had searched everywhere, every dark corner and decrepit tree, before reaching the lake. The moon reflected off its black surface, which drew his attention to something bobbing within the ripples. It was a leg. When he caught sight of the foot, the boy fell to his knees. He recognised the shoe. It was his sister’s shoe; his sister’s leg. Soon enough, the other body parts came drifting to join the leg, forming a rough manifestation of what was once his sister’s living body. Firstly, there was a head facing down in the water, then arms seemingly blue under the moonlight, and lastly a torso coated in her favourite dress. He felt sick, lost, terrified to his very core. Just as thoughts of never being whole again began to pain his chest, the boy heard the snapping of a twig behind him. He dared to turn around but all he found was a small, black-furred wolf. The wolf approached him timidly, whining deep in its throat to say to the boy that he too was lonely and afraid. The boy put out his hand for the wolf to join him and they sat together. Perhaps he would be OK. Perhaps all that had happened had led to this; something new. He rustled the fur of his new friend, starting with its back then its ear before going under its snout. His hand touched something wet and sticky. He drew it from the wolf to get a better look, only to find a crimson substance now clinging to his small hands. Blood. The wolf turned on the boy as its eyes became a pale blue before thwack! He tore the boy’s face from his head…

Los secretos, como los muertos, no siempre permanecen enterrados.

Lothaire briefly gazed heavenward. "Chase is clearly a reluctant sharer. Which should incite her curiosity about what's going on in his head. She's a disgustingly self-righteous Valkyrie, filled with the need to fix things, to right wrongs. If anything needed fixing ..." He waved a hand to indicate Declan from head to toe. "As wrong as he can be.

Louis-Cesare slowly pulled himself into a half-standing position against the side of the winery.'What? Did you think one little mage was going to do me in?' He swallowed hard. 'Hell, that was just a warm-up.

Louis found me in the rear parlor, the one more distant from the noises of the tourists in the Rue Royale, and with its windows open to the courtyard below. I was in fact looking out the window, looking for the cat again, though I didn't tell myself so, and observing how our bougainvillea had all but covered the high walls that enclosed us and kept us safe from the rest of the world. The wisteria was also fierce in its growth, even reaching out from the brick walls to the railing of the rear balcony and finding its way up to the roof. I could never quite take for granted the lush flowers of New Orleans. Indeed, they filled me with happiness whenever I stopped to really look at them and surrender to their fragrance, as though I still had the right to do so, as though I still were part of nature, as though I were still a mortal man.

Love gives you the strength to face an army, vampire or human...Love gives you a reason to press on through the storm. Love helps you think clearly and follow the clues ahead, if you know where they lead.

Love makes you stupid. Love makes you weak. Love will kill you all one day, and it’s going to kill you today.

Love is the line that draws the shape of God. --Bleeding Hearts (Demimonde #1)

Make no mistake, Lucas. You chose Pedro over your fellow Hunters. I'm coming for you and you will pay for your betrayal. I'm coming for everyone in that house and no one will survive.

Loyalty, trust, we both know those don’t exist toward others in our world. We prize ourselves above all others. To deny that would make you the biggest liar there is." - Marko Delacroix

Luca chuckled. “You will learn to trust me, princess.” Ryan scoffed as he also brushed past Luca and walked into the library. “Like hell she will.

Lucius shrugged. "Perhaps in time you will find it useful." "Sure. I'll keep it on my shelf right next to The Idiot's Guide to Becoming a Mythical Creature.'' Lucius actually laughed. "Very funny. I didn't know you made jokes." "I'm a funny person," I defended myself. "And by the way—I don't snore." "You do snore. And you mumble, too." My blood froze. The dream . . . "What? What did you hear?" "Nothing too intelligible. But it must have been a rather pleasant dream. You sounded ecstatic.

Luca scoffed. “Wolves never change.” “Excuse me?” Ryan demanded. “All about instant gratification. Reacting purely on instinct and engaging in mindless acts of violence and sex.” “Like vampires are any different. Oh, accept for the fact that my boys don’t kill those they fuck. Vampires get off on having a life in their hands, the power of draining their victim’s life force. Wolves revel in life. You are death and you breed only death.

Maybe Dracula wasn't a vampire, just a raging alcoholic who was constantly hungover.

Meeting a vampire is kind of like a celebrity sighting, but where the celebrity possibly wants to kill you.

Most of the funeral stuff is going to be done during daylight hours,” I said. “I’m not even going to be able to attend the burial. Humans get upset when vampires burst into flames right next to them.

Men feel about sex the way vampires feel about blood. They don't just like it, they crave it. That's why vampire stories always have strong sexual undercurrents. A vampire's hunger is simply a metaphor for a man's lust. And if a guy is paying attention to you, he wants to have sex with you.

Mom, how come you never go outside?" "I told you, I'm a vampire.