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...He palmed up the life Alert. Death Alert was more like it: Help, I haven't fallen and I'm standing up-can you come and rectify this problem? - Isaac
J.R. Ward
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J.R. Ward
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I'm an angel not a frickin' saint.
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Qhuinn's eyes shifted away from his buddy--and just happened to measure the distance down to the stone patio below. Hmm . . . doing a swan dive onto all that slate might just get the images of those two out of his head... of course, it would also turn his brain into scrambled eggs, but really, was that such a bad thing?
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Let's take my truck, Jim said as he hit the gravel. Less noise. And it has a radio, right? With tragic concentration Adrian started warming up his voice, sounding like a moose being backstroked by a chesse grater. Jim shook his head at Eddie as the doors opened How can you stand that racket? Selective deafness Teach me,master.
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Although she was ashamed to admit it now, the darkness in him had been the largest part of his allure. It was such an anomaly, a contrast to what she'd known from life. It had made him dangerous. Exciting. Sexy. But that was a fantasy. This was real. He suffered. And there was nothing sexy or thrilling about that. (Zsadists & Bella)
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You are so beautiful, he mouthed. But of course she couldn’t see his lips. Guess he was going to have to show her.
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I feel as though I am shelved. That I have been given the words to the story of my life, but that I have remained largely unread.
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God, I miss you, he said in a voice that cracked. Every night. Every day.
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I can't... I find that I can't concentrate. On anything. I can't really... Rhage's eyes drifted to Zsadist. How do you live with it? All the anger. The pain. The...
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Is he Catholic? her grandmother asked on the way out. He's a drug dealer -- so if he is religious, he's got incredible powers of reconciliation. He looks like a good boy, her vovo said over her shoulder. A good Catholic boy. And that was that -- for now.
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Jane: Focus is important. V: Only if you're a microscope.
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Sometimes IVs and pills weren’t always the best course of treatment for the injured. Sometimes all you needed was the touch of the one you loved and the sound of their voice and the knowledge that you were home, and that was enough to drag you back from the brink.
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All kings are blind. The good ones see this and use more than their eyes to lead.
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No stonger allies no greater friends no bigger fighters of honor could a king behould then these assembled afore me mine brothers mine blood
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If sex were food, Rhage would have been morbidly obese.
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V had a passing thought that she used the word anyway like an eraser on a crowded chalkboard. She said it whenever she needed to clear off the things she'd just shared to make room for more.
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He went over to the leathers and picked them up. Nice Catholic boy like him didn't know much about BDSM, but it looked like he was going to learn firsthand. Taking out his cellphone, he hit V, but didn't expect an answer. He guessed GPS was going to have to come in handy once again.
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Unfortunately, beer was only a short-term answer. And head transplants had yet to be approved by the FDA.
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How sweetly he came to her, she thought. Even with his bulk and power, he came to her...sweetly.
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I was dead until you found me, though I breathed. I was sightless, though I could see. And then you came...and I was awakened.
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The smile he gave her was wistful, just a little lift to his mouth. You are a fighter. Yes. Always. And sometimes I'm a whole army.
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