Court Of The Vampire Queen Quotes

Don't blame us," said my mother. "We didn't blow up half of Court, steal a dozen cars, call out a murderer in the middle of a crowd, or get our teenage friend crowned queen." "Actually," said Abe, "I did blow up half of Court.

I'm trying to be diplomatic. The wisdom of my ass is well-known. If I didn't lip off to them, after shooting my mouth off to faerie queens and Vampire Courts--plural, Courts--demigods and demon lords, they might get their feelings hurt.

Wanting something is a good excuse for the world to take it away.

And she arose from her deathbed in a gossamer gown, with eyes the color of starlight and hair as black as the night. And those who were her captors trembled, for the scent of death and madness emanated from her soul, and yet she was not dead. She moved like the spiders that creep in the treetops, and none could look away. Taking her first captor in hand, she fed deep and ravenous. And so it was that Myst, Queen of the Indigo Court, was born from the blood of the dead.

I suppose it's not a bad thing to have an abundance of love.

I am Harry, son of Malcolm," I shouted back. "I have battled dark sorcerers and black knights! I have fought men and beasts in numbers too great for counting, invaded the heart of Winter, confronted necromancers and the living dead, vampires and ghouls and demons in their hordes endless! I have matched wits with the six Queens of Faerie and prevailed, and thwarted the combined will of the White Council! When they came for my child, I smote the Red Court of Vampires, and laid them in ruin for all the world to see. I am Harry, son of Malcolm, and I have entered the vaults of Tartarus, and stolen its treasures beneath the gaze of Hades himself! And I'm about to add giant slaying to my résumé.

My name sounds like a sin on his lips.

You might have the bond, little dhampir, but we do, too. You're ours just as much as we're yours.

Gods, this man is addicting in a way I don't know if I'll ever have a defense against. I don't know if I want one.

Fear and pain can help motivate a change. Not panic, though. It's a fine line.

Spending time wishing for things to be different than how they are is wasteful.

He squeezes my hands. “You are never defenseless, Mina. Not with our powers flowing through your blood. Trust them and trust yourself.” He kisses me quickly. “Stay alive.

Information is just another kind of power, and my father never parts with power willingly.

No one gives a shit what I want.

Grace is hurt because of the deal she made with you, I’ll find a way to kill you myself.” Maybe it’s an impossible task, but I’ll do what I can to repay that debt.

Everyone wants to be special. To be unique. Me more than most.

I fucking ache for you, Mina, but I want you to choose me because you want me. I don’t want it to be coerced because you’re out of your mind with bloodlust.

There's no room for should in this world. I almost lost him. I won't waste another moment doubting what we have when proof that it's there is so readily available. I don't know what the future will bring, but we have this now and I won't waste it.

I am the demigod of chaos. I am a child of Mother Earth. I am the gargoyle queen. Bearer of the Crown. Mated to a vampire. And through it all—Grace. Always, always Grace. And so I get up, one more time, to face the man who would take everything from me if I let him. I get up for my mother, who never knew her own power and who died so that I could know mine. I get up for my grandmother, who never knew who she was or what she had inside her. I get up for my great-grandmother. For my great-great-grandmother. For ten generations of women before me, who had their power silenced. Who hid their very existence in order to survive. Who bound their power in order to placate someone else who was afraid of what they had inside them. I am not afraid. And I will not hide anymore.

Clad in red velvet it came, the very covering my old Master had so loved, the dream king, Marius. It came swaggering and camping through the lighted streets of Paris as though God had made it. But it was a vampire child, the same as I, son of the seventeen hundreds, as they reckoned the time to be then, a blazing, brash, bumbling, laughing and teasing blood drinker in the guise of a young man, come to stomp out whatever sacred fire yet burnt in the cleft scar tissue of my soul and scatter the ashes. It was The Vampire Lestat. It wasn't his fault. Had one of us been able to strike him down one night, break him apart with his own fancy sword and set him ablaze, we might have had a few more decades of our wretched delusions. But nobody could. He was too damned strong for us. Created by a powerful and ancient renegade, a legendary vampire by the name of Magnus, this Lestat, aged twenty in mortal years, an errant and penniless country aristocrat from the wild lands of Auvergne, who had thrown over custom and respectability and any hope of court ambitions, of which he had none anyway since he couldn't even read or write, and was too insulting to wait on any King or Queen, who became a wild blond-haired celebrity of the boulevard gutter theatricals, a lover of men and women, a laughing happy-go-lucky blindly ambitious self-loving genius of sorts, this Lestat, this blue-eyed and infinitely confident Lestat, was orphaned on the very night of his creation by the ancient monster who made him, bequeathed to him a fortune in a secret room in a crumbling medieval tower, and then went into the eternal comfort of the ever devouring flames. This Lestat, knowing nothing of Old Covens and Old Ways, of soot covered gangsters who thrived under cemeteries and believed they had a right to brand him a heretic, a maverick and a bastard of the Dark Blood, went strutting about fashionable Paris, isolated and tormented by his supernatural endowments yet glorying in his new powers, dancing at the Tuileries with the most magnificently clad women, reveling in the joys of the ballet and the high court theater and roaming not only in the Places of Light, as we called them, but meandering mournfully in Notre Dame de Paris itself, right before the High Altar, without the lightning of God striking him where he stood. Armand’s description of Lestat from The Vampire Armand

The only thing I ever wanted was freedom, and it’s the one thing I’ll never have.

It’s a fine line.” He squeezes my hands. “You are never defenseless, Mina. Not with our powers flowing through your blood. Trust them and trust yourself.” He kisses me quickly. “Stay alive.

There is freedom in submission, and I find it in this moment.

Yoh have to know the boundaries of the fight before you can set foot into the arena.

His lips twitch the tiniest bit. “Are you really that naive you think sex and fondness have anything to do with each other?” No, of course not. But there is a large distance between fondness and wanting to murder someone. Isn’t there? “No. I guess I’m not.” I guess if he can handle his side of things, all he has to do is bite me to get me onboard.

Forgive the fuck out of me if I wanted you to choose me instead of just going along with it because you had no other option.

It’s only a king, so there’s not a ton of room,

What the fuck just happened?

It’s the baby. It’s draining my magic.

I am my father’s heir by virtue of the babe now growing in my womb. I am now the head of the clan by virtue of his death. Challenge me now or take a knee.

Freedom in our world comes at the price of power. This was the only way.

More!” “Mina—” “More. Please.

And while I’m only fifty percent human, I’m tainted by that lineage enough to not be able to see more than a blur of movement. Another way I’m seen as damaged goods. At least if I had full vampire reflexes and strength, it might make up for my lack of magic. As it is, I’m barely better than a human. Barely better than prey.

I hope you know what you’re getting into. After

I test the floor, now clear of shadows, and it feels solid enough. “Creepy.

We do that by boosting Mina’s power with our blood and then making her come so hard, it overrides the blocks in her mind.

Your precious mankind!" she said. "It has learned nothing in six thousand years! You speak to me of ideals and goals! There were men in my father's court in Uruk who knew the hungry ought to be fed. Do you know what your modern world is? Televisions are tabernacles of the miraculous and helicopters are its angels of death!

I end up wrapped in a blanket, cuddled between Wolf and Rylan while Malachi reclines on Rylan’s other side. It’s a strange sort of puppy pile, but it feels effortless. Especially when Rylan idly sifts his hand through my hair.

It’s like rage has hijacked what little verbal brakes I had.