Quotes by J.R. Ward

The place is also big enough. We could all live there without killing each other. -RhageThat depends more on your mouth than any floorplan. -Phury

Phury knelt beside him and stroked his face. Ive only ever had you to live for. If you die I have nothing.Im utterly lost. And you are needed here. Zsadist tried to reach out, but couldnt lift his arms as Phury stood up. God, Z, I keep thinking this tragedy of ours is going to be over. But it just keeps going, doesnt it? Zsadist blacked out to the sound of his twins boots heading from the room.

From out of nowhere, Phury felt an overwhelming tide of guilt, like someone had popped the lid off allhis deepest concerns and his fears for the future of the race. He had to respond to it, couldnt bear thepressure. Riding the wave, he found himself saying in a rush, We live and die for our kind. The species is our firstand only concern. We fight every night and count the jars of thelessers we kill. Stealth is the way weprotect the civilians. The less they know about us, the safer they are. That is why we disappeared.

Sometimes the only thing that got you through hell was that you were in too deep to pull out.-Ehlenas thoughts

What is your name? she murmured.He cocked an eyebrow at her and then went back to staring at his brother. Im the evil one, in case you havent figured it out.I wanted your name, not your calling.Being a bastards more of a compulsion, really. And its Zsadist. I am Zsadist.

His ears caught a sweet chiming noise, and a moment later a warm rush fell over his body. How we doing Rhage? Too hot? Butchs voice. Up close. The cop was in the shower with him. And he smelled Turkish tobacco. V must be in the bathroom too. Hollywood? This too hot for you? No. He reached around for the soap, fumbling. Cant see. Just as well. No reason for you to know what we look naked together. Frankly, Im traumatized enough for the both of us. Rhage smiled a little as a washcloth scrubbed over his face, neck and chest.

Fear of change was a weakness

He cleared his throat and reminded himself that if you pissed Her Holiness off, theyd need barbecue tongs to pick up your steaming pieces.

Wrath: look at how their folklore portrays our species. Theres Dracula for Christs sake, an evil bloodsucker who preys on the defenseless. Theres piss-poor B movies and porn. And dont get me started on the whole Halloween thing. Plastic fangs. Black capes. The only thing the idiots got right are that we drink blood and that we cant go out in daylight. The rest is bullshit, fabricated to alienate us and stimulate fear in the masses. Or just as offensive, the fiction used to create some kind of mystique for bored humans who think the dark side is a fun place to visit.

Time to the face the music,

the only one who wanted to be free. Surprise, surprise. CHAPTER

and Billy rolled in. “Thought you might like some wake-up.” Bingo,

Isaac Rothe, Matthias

husband and my family and the better half of WriterDog. Prologue

All around, grown men were getting out of cars and shoving at each other like fifteen-year-olds, the bunch of juiced-up, armchair quarterbacks ready to peanut-gallery it up: The closest they were going to get to the octagon was standing on the outside of the chicken wire looking in.

Bottom line? As much as youwanted someone to change and believed they could, they were in control of their life. Not you. And you could throw yourself against the wall of their choices until you were black-and-blue and dizzy as hell, but unless they decided to take a different road, the outcome wasn’t going to be what you wanted.

Destiny was a machine built over time, each choice that you made in life adding another gear, another conveyor belt, another assemblyman. Where you ended up was the product that was spit out at the end—and there was no going back for a redo. You couldn‟t take a peek at what you‟d manufactured and decide, Oh, wait, I wanted to make sewing machines instead of machine guns; let me go back to the beginning and start again. One shot. That was all you got.

Some bridges you crossed on your own, no matter who drove you to the edge.

At the last minute, she bobbed left so that he stabbed the wall shed hit, trapping the blade in the Sheetrock. As he went to try to get the thing free, she whirled around and nailed him in the gut with her backup blade, springing a hole in his lower intestines. Meeting his shocked stare, she said, What, like you didnt think Id have a second knife? Fucking idiot.

Life. In all its mundane majesty.