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As always, Blay was the anchor who kept him from being swept away.

J.R. Ward

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J.R. Ward
Anchors
Swept
Kept
Away
Always
Blay
Anchor

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Too late Bella. Now, it's too late. Show me.
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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.
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He cleared his throat and reminded himself that if you pissed Her Holiness off, they'd need barbecue tongs to pick up your steaming pieces.
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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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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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Xhex: John, she said softty. He paused and looked over his shoulder toward the bed. I love you.” His handsome face tightened in pain, and he rubbed the middle of his chest, as if someone had fisted up his heart and squeezed it dead. And then he turned away. As she hit the confines of her prison… She was screaming at the top of her lungs.
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In the far corner, a tenor began to sing, Zsadist's crystal-clear voice sailing up toward the warrior paintings on the ceiling far, far above them all. At first John didn't know what the song was...although if he'd been asked what his name was, he would have said Santa Claus, or Luther Vandross, or Teddy Roosevelt. Maybe even Joan Collins.
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Life has gotten in the way of our life.
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You are so . . . odd. I shall take that as a compliment. -Thor to No'One
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Perfect date material, she thought. A vampire with the social equivalent of road rage. ---Beth about Wrath
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She nodded, wondering why couldn't she have been named Mary. Or Sue. Butno , she had to be nine-letter Elizabeth.
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And love … love was worth dying for. Worth living for, too.
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And bottom line, without John by her side, everything seemed to be just a big, resounding meh.
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But Tudor mansions on manicured grounds didn't look right with their grand front doors wide open to the night. It was like a debutante flashing her bra thanks to a wardrobe malfunction.
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Nothing that passes between us will ever be wrong. Come back to me.
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