I thought I'd tempt your tastebuds for the Quinn short in The Mammoth Book of Vampire Romance, so here you are. The beginning few lines of Dreams:

In the dreams they shared, there was always desire.

It was the slip of a hand across silky, golden skin. The sigh of quick breath past the lips he always longed to kiss, both in these dreams and in life.

The way she thrust back her head and moaned as he caressed her breasts, the gleam of her red hair under the candle-lit warmth that always seemed to encase these moments between wakefulness. Whether that light was by her design or his didn’t really matter, because all that did matter was the two of them.

And these precious moments of intimacy.

The dream went on. He watched the rapid beat of the pulse at her neck. Could almost smell the thick sweetness of the blood that ran underneath her skin. Blood he ached to roll across his taste buds yet again.

She moaned his name, a sound sweeter than life itself. He reached for her, pulling her spirit towards him, wrapping his own around her. Claiming her with a completeness that she would never allow in wakefulness.

But she was his in a way she would probably never understand. He might one day be forced to walk away, but he could never let her go completely. She was a part of him. He’d shared his blood with her and tasted her soul, and there was no turning away from the consequences of that. Not for one such as him--a creature who was more myth and magic than darkness.

He was something that should not be, even in this age of vampire rights and human acknowledgement--if not complete acceptance--that the things that went bump in the night were very real indeed.

But for now, there was just the two of them and this dream. It was everything and nothing, and it would do until they met again in the flesh.

Which would be soon. They’d been apart for too long now.