Quotes About Wrath

All of us are taking the night off, Wrath said abruptly. We need some regroup time. Rhage snorted from across the table. You're not going to make us play Monopoly again, are you? Yup. A collective groan rose up from the Brotherhood, one that Wrath ignored. Right after dinner.

Perfect date material, she thought. A vampire with the social equivalent of road rage. ---Beth about Wrath

Brace yourself , Effie. Jesus Ch- A grunt cut off the swearing. Wrath poked his head out of the window and whispered , You're supposed to be a good Catholic. Isn't that blasphemy ? Butch's tone was like someone had pissed out a fire on his bed. You just threw half a car at me with nothing but a quote from Mrs. fucking Doubtfire.

Son of a bitch Wrath breathed as a figure stopped twenty yards away. The glowing man laughed Well, if it isn't good king Wrath and his band of merry-merry happy-happy. I swear you boys should do kiddie shows, you're so fucking cheery. Great, Rhage murmered, his sense of humor's still intact. Vishous exhaled Maybe I can try to beat it out of him- Use his own arm to do it, if you can- Wrath glared at the two of them, who shot him back a pair of 'who-us?' stares

Wrath walked over to the closet and looked throught the clothes. He took out a black long-sleeved shirt, a pair of leather pants, and --jeez, what was this? Oh, not fucking likely. He was not going to fight in BVDs. He'd go commando before he got cought dead inthose things.

Giving in to a shrill instinct, she ran around the side of the building. Butch was marching toward his car as if he were carrying an unstable load, and she rushed to catch up with them. "Wait. I need to ask him a question." "You want to know his shoe size or something?" Butch snapped. "Fourteen," Wrath drawled. "I'll remember that at Christmas, asshole.

Vishous, son of the Bloodletter, was not the kind of male anyone addressed like that. Except, apparently, for Wrath. In this case, the Brother with the tattoos on his face and the perverted reputation and the hand of death did exactly what he was told. He shut the fuck up. Which said volumes about Wrath. Did it not.

Wrath - Beth x Overnight = Psycho-hose Beast

Wrath was in a bad mood, and he knew this because the sound of the doggen waxing the wooden balustrade at the top of the main staircase was making him want to light the whole fucking mansion on fire.

And I'll wash your other clothes. Shall I also order you a new set of leathers? Don't- Wrath shut his mouth. Sure. That'd be great. And, ah, could you get me some boxers? Black? XXL?

Bacon's on the way. He smiled. Hey, they like you! Wrath to Beth after the brother's bow to her.

And suddenly it wasn't a joke. The further she went, the more serious Lassiter got, and the shakier Wrath's shellan became, as if the words she were speaking were ones of great value and meaning. This was tradition for her, he realized.

I'm blind, he told the commoner. I cannot see. That's how I knew what would matter to you and your family. I've got some experience making accommodations in this world. The gasp was loud. Wrath smiled a little. Yeah, that Blind King title isn't just gossip. It's the God's honest-and I am not ashamed of it.

Now about this storm." Wrath shook his head. "It's ripe nasty out there. I'm calling off tonight. It's a fucking snow day, assholes.

It was goddamned weird having someone waiting for him to come home, Wrath thought.

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

Wrath was six feet, six inches of pure terror dressed in leather. His hair was long and black, falling straight from a widow's peak. Wraparound glasses hid eyes that no one had ever seen revealed. Shoulders twice the size of most males'. With a face that was both aristocratic and brutal, he looked like the king he was by birthright and the soldier he'd become by destiny.

Wrath watched the doctor go through the little monitoring room and out into the hall. A moment later, she returned with the tall, thin physician. Havers bowed to him and to Beth through the glass and then went over to the monitors. Both of them assumed the identical pose: bent at the waist, hands in the pockets, brows down low over their eyes. "Do they coach them to do that in medical school?" Beth said. "Funny, I was wondering the same thing." -Beth & Wrath

Rage wrapped itself around her like a tourniquet, keeping her alive even as it condemned a part of her to atrophy.

Anger is blood, poured and perplexed into froth; but malice is the wisdom of our wrath.

The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.

The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.

Lucky people should hide. Pray the days of wrath do not visit their home.

If Prometheus was worthy of the wrath of heaven for kindling the first fire upon earth, how ought all the gods honor the men who make it their professional business to put it out?