Quotes from J.R. Ward

So what do you say. And this is not about sex." "Good. Because I'm walking with a cane and I feel about as sexy as a toaster oven." "Okay, quick side note on that. Toaster ovens are hot. I mean, that's their purpose. That's how you warm up pizza and how Hot Pockets get their name. Without toaster ovens, they'd be Room Temperature Pockets, and who needs that." Novo started laughing. "You're a freak.

Both males took a deep breath. And then Wrath put his hand on top of Xcor's head, as if in benediction. Looking up, the King sought Layla out with his blind eyes. "You should be proud of your male. This is no small thing for a warrior." She brushed at her eyes. "Yes." Wrath

This is about your survival. Survival means you continue no matter the cost, no matter the sacrifice. So stop wasting breath, get back on your feet, and move.

He was reminding her that the future was unknown and unknowable. So if you had the chance . . . even if there was no music and no ballgown, no tuxedo or gala . . . when your true love asked you to dance? It was important to say yes.

Habit and routine made things feel permanent, but that was all an illusion based on the very flimsy foundation of repetition. Change and chaos was a far better bet to put your faith in.

Whatever, sure, on the surface, Novo had taken his vein, and that hadn't been the first time a female had done that to him. And hello, she was in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines. The experience, though? The feel of her lips on the skin of his wrist, the subtle pulls, the lick of her tongue when she was finished? Fuck his drug addiction. Give him a lifetime of that and he was never going to need another line of coke again.

Destiny was as uncaring and influential as the wind to a flag, carrying the fabric of an individual's existence this way and that, subjecting that which it rocked to its whims without an inquiry as to what the banner may have desired. Or may have prayed for.

Staring down at the churning crowd from his second-floor office, he watched them through the kind of one-way glass that psychologists used to monitor the interviews of insane people. And this made sense. The men and women below, stimulated and stimulating each other, were not on the normal bandwidth, and that was why they came to his establishment.

But if Wrath were ever injured enough to come and see him, Havers would be tempted to let that monster bleed out.

When do we ever know what we're walking into," he said in a low voice. "Destiny is not a straightaway. It's cluttered with corners and all of them are dark. We make the turns we do . . . and find ourselves where we are.

But their chauffeur knew exactly where they were, and how much distance was required to bring the Benz to a halt. With the expertise of a Hollywood stunt driver, the butler wrenched the wheel and nailed the brakes, bringing them to a park between a GTO Trez had an immediate hard-on for…and a Hummer that looked like an abstract sculpture rather than anything that was drivable. "Maybe he made his mistakes on that one," Trez said dryly.

With regard to threats against you. I would care to apprise you of a certain individual you would be wise to watch with care." Wrath cocked an eyebrow over the rim of his wraparound. "Do tell.

Now be a good little sociopath and shut the fuck up while you get taken in for medical treatment." In

That Zsadist was late was no big surprise. Z was one giant, violent fuck-you to the world. A walking, sometimes talking, usually cursing SOB who took hatred, especially toward females, to new levels.

This was the nurse Rehv hoped he would get each time he came in. This was the one who made these visits even partially bearable. This was his Ehlena. Okay, so she wasn't his in the slightest. He knew her name only because it was on the blue-and-white pin on her coat. He saw her only when he came to be treated. And she didn't like him at all. But he still thought of her as his, and that was just the way of it.

the place appeared to be exactly like what you'd expect the king of the vampires to live in: spooky, creepy, threatening. It was all that Halloween shit, except this was for real. The people in there did bite, and not just when they were asked to. "Cool," Trez said, feeling instantly at home.

Do you want me?" she said in a distorted voice. "God, yes, fuck yes…I ache…." "Tell me you want me." Spreading his knees wide, he put his hand on his sex and squeezed. "So bad…I'm dying…." "Say the words." "I want you…," he breathed. Elise

because crime, like illness and accidents, didn't recognize any distinction between weekdays and weekends.

Come on. I'm stuffed, so I need that ice cream now.

Don't disappointment me, son." Yeah, fuck you, daddy. O

I'm a vampire. I'm a warrior. I'm a dangerous beast. At the end of this evening, you aren't going to remember you ever met me. And the idea of not even being a memory of yours makes me feel like I've been stabbed in the chest.

I'm going to stay here and see if he comes back," Wrath said as the double doors opened and V strode in. "I want the rest of you out searching for him in the city, but before you go, first let's get an update from our very own Katie Couric." He nodded at Vishous. "Katie?" V's glare was the ocular version of a fully extended middle finger, but he got on with it. -Wrath & V

Closing his eyes, he sent up a prayer to anyone who was listening, asking please, for God's sake, stop sending him signals that they were right for each other. He'd read that book, seen the movie, bought the sound track, the DVD, the T-shirt, the mug, the bobble-head, and the insider's guide. He knew every reason they could have been lock and key. But just as he was aware of all that aligned them, he was even clearer on how they were damned to be ever apart.

Fate was not easy . . . but it got things right. Eventually, everything that came to pass was exactly how it was meant to be.