From The Grey House:
Her head reeled as if she’d been slapped. A tear slid down her cheek as she remembered her first real monster. Her voice was a whisper. She was surprised he heard. “Human.”
Vincent was not expecting the haunted look. He had expected, wanted, her anger. Passionate anger, always easy to stoke, could be transformed into something far more pleasurable. He had come out here to play. He would have his way. But first, “He’s not the one, though, is he? Not the one who made you a Slayer.”
Her anger came back at the word. “I’m not a Slayer.”
Cat Stark 