Sasha Laurens

I let myself smile, just a little, thinking of her asking my pronouns. I had never heard a vampire ask that, although I knew that humans sometimes did.

Why shouldn’t I have a little fun? Yes, they were using me, but it felt good to see them recognize that I had something they wanted. Plus, it was hot to see the perfect little Harcoties scared that they were doing something they weren’t supposed to—even though it was fucked up that they believed kissing girls fell into that category.

There was just something graceful and specific and arresting about each of them, as if each girl was the fullest version of herself.

In short, she was the gothest bitch I had ever seen.

The truth was, no one else could be trusted to love you, even to like you. Certainly not to understand you, and only in a few cases to respect you. If I forgot that and let myself get hurt, it would be my own damn fault.

it felt so infuriatingly, stupidly good that it was almost cruel, and I wanted to disappear into that horrible feeling forever.

She looked, all at once, like the girl I used to know, who’d felt like I’d found a missing piece of myself.

My heartbeat quickened.

I wasn’t just some outcast bloodsucker gay weirdo

If we had each other, who gave a fuck what the others said?

She looked eerily beautiful, like some kind of mystical creature. Which I guessed, as a vampire, she was.