Quotes About Conflict

He and that woman were probably going to have to cross paths again. She was about to have a big problem in her life

You asked me to speak. If this is a problem, the solution is not to get defensive because you don't like what you hear. The answer is to not invite me to talk.

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.

The Black Dagger Brotherhood were keeping him alive, so that they could kill him. Given the sum of Xcor's earthly pursuits, which had been at their best violent, and at their worst downright depraved, it seemed an apt end for him. -Xcor's thoughts

If Tohr hadn't hated the motherfucker with such a passion…he'd have almost respected the sonofabitch. —

I'm going to talk to her." "And how's that going to go? You're just going to walk up to her and say, 'Hey, I know you've never seen me before, but I'm your dad. Oh, and guess what? You've won the evolutionary lottery: You're a vampire. Let's go to Disneyland!'" "I hate you right now." -Darius & Tohrment

After all, what kind of fun would it be if you could easily avoid your inner hand grenade?

Last fight I had with the bitch ended way too soon." Eddie rolled his eyes and glanced at Jim. "It was back in the Middle Ages and he still hasn't gotten over it." "Why so long ago?" "We got put on ice," Eddie said. "We were a little more fallen than the bosses were comfortable with." Adrian

what say you?" "Fuck," came the reply. "Appropriate word choice, my lord, but not really an answer." Wrath

Wrath, what say you?" "Fuck," came the reply. "Appropriate word choice, my lord, but not really an answer.

Getting up from her seat, she walked over to him and— Slap. As Beth followed through with her palm, the sharp cracking sound faded in the room and her beloved mate shut up. Staring at him calmly, she said, "And now that I have your attention and you're not ranting and raving like a lunatic, I'd appreciate your telling me where I can find whatever they sent us.

Three days. During which there was enough drama going on to make War and Peace looked like a comic book.

Like right now? She was castrating him, throwing his balls down the disposal in the sink and hitting the switch

Terrific. A bisexual dominant vampire with kidnapping expertise. Man, for so many reasons she shouldn't feel like she did about him.

How he roomed with the fucker was inexplicable.

Will you two cut the shit and get a room already, Axe drawled. No offense, but rom coms make me sick. This is not a romantic comedy, Novo ground out. It's a murder mystery with an obvious ending.

Blay's laugh flared and stopped short, as if his throat got tight. "Yeah. Go fig. Me in love with Qhuinn…a guy who, when he's not moody, is a slut and smart-ass. Except you want to know what the most fucked-up thing is, though?" Qhuinn tensed as John nodded. Blay glanced down at his duffel. "He's right.

This shit between them was killing them both, but they were stalled out. Unable to make things work; unable to let things go. It was a mess.

You're such a pain in the ass." "Said the SIG to the Glock.

As her pace through the fountain intensified and her robing started to get soaked, she leaped out of the pool and jogged around, her fists up in front of her, the punches she threw out pumping the air. Being the good, dutiful Chosen was not in her hardwiring, and that was the root of all of the problems between her and her mother. Oh, the waste. Oh, the disappointment. Oh, do get over it, mother dear. Those

Oh, please—" "Shut up and let me finish!" Z's mouth dropped open, sure as if she'd booted him in the ass. No one ever took that tone of voice with him. The anomaly alone would have gotten his attention, but the fact that it was her stunned him out.

The guy took off, which meant short of braining him with the glass, there was no other way of expressing his I-am-an-island opinion. Although really, that would just be a waste of good booze--Qhuinn was so hardheaded, you could have hit his frontal lobe with a crowbar and made no impression on him whatsoever.

You gotta cut that shit out." Lassiter's voice harmonized with the sound of the toilet flushing. Which so made sense. "Christ, don't you ever knock?" "It's Lassiter. L-A-S-S-I-T-E-R. How is it possible you're still getting me confused with someone else? Do I need a nametag?" "Yes, and let's put it over your mouth." -Lassiter & Tohr

Ah, hell, V, you're killing me." Butch O'Neal mined through his sock drawer, looking for black silk, finding white cotton. No, wait. He pulled out one dress sock. Not exactly a triumph. "If I were killing you, cop, footwear'd be the last thing on your mind.