" Don’t start believing you’re a monster. The way you touch me sometimes, with such tenderness, that is no monster.” Her body was restless, a need moving over her, through her, a need she had never known before. “You wanted me, Jacques, yet you stopped yourself. You’re no monster.”
Maybe my wounds stopped me, not my self control. She had stopped him with her acceptance of the beast in him.
“You’re tired, Jacques. Sleep for a while.”
He caught her hand, his thumb feathering across the inside of her wrist.. I am not a vampire. I have not turned.
“I don’t understand.”
He closed his eyes, smiled in his mind. She was back to using her professional, scientific voice. You were worried that I had turned. Earlier, in the woods, you were afraid I was a vampire. Just now you thought our people might be vampire. We are Carpathian, not the undead. Unless we turn.
“Would you stay out of my head? Wait until you’re invited.”
If I waited for an invitation from you, little red hair, I would be centuries old before it ever came about. The smile in his mind was just a little too sexy for her peace of mind. I was merely attempting to ease your fears. Now he sounded innocent.
She laughed softly. “Do I have naïve stamped on my forehead?”
Has anyone ever complained about your bedside manner?
Shea raised her eyebrows. “I’m a surgeon. I don’t need a bedside manner. And in any case, I’ve never had such an outrageous patient before. Stop calling me red hair. And little red hair. And all the other things you call me. Dr. O’Halloran is appropriate. "

― Christine Feehan , Dark Desire (Dark, #2)