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J.R. Ward

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“Saxton smelled really good and had a handshake that was firm. "You've grown up a lot." Blay found himself flushing as he took his hand back. "You're just the same." "Am I?" Those pearl eyes flashed. "Is that good or bad?" "Oh...good. I didn't mean---" "So tell me how you've been. Are you mated to some nice female your parents set you up with?" Blay's laugh was sharp and hard. "God, no. There's no one for me.”

“...the only thing that had tethered her to the earth had been him and it was strange, but she felt welded to him on some core level now. He had seen her at her absolute worst, at her weakest and most insane, and he hadn't looked away. He hadn't judged and he hadn't been burned. It was as if in the heat of her meltdown they had melted together. This was more than emotion. It was a matter of soul.”

“You know, Qhuinn's an interesting character." Saxton reached out with an elegant hand and picked up his port. "He's one of my favorite cousins, actually. His nonconformity is admirable and he's survived things that would crush a lesser male. Don't know that being in love with him would be easy, however." Blay didn't go near that one. "So do you come here often?" Saxton laughed, his pale eyes glinting, "Not for discussion, huh.”

“In the silence, she felt the past and the present shift and mix, but that was a mirage. There was no way to comfort the lost boy he'd been back then. But she had the grown male. She had him right in her arms, and for a brief moment of whimsy, she imagined that she was never, ever going to let him go.”

“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 soundtrack, 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. But just as he was aware of all that aligned them, he was even clearer on how they were damned to be ever apart.”

“Layla brought her arms around herself, no doubt because she was remembering the feel of another, stronger set. "I have wanted to, but he holds back. I hope...I believe it is because he wishes to mate me properly first, in ceremony." Payne felt the awful weight of premonition. "Beware, sister. You are a gentle soul." Layla got to her feet, her smile now saddened. "Yes, I am. But I would rather my heart be broken than unopened and I know that one must ask if one is to receive.”

“Then you would hold me up, wouldn't you." He traced over her features with his fingertips. And as he did, for some strange reason, he felt the arms of infinity wrapping around them both, holding them close... linking them forever. Yes, he mouthed. I would hold you up. I will ever hold you up and hold you dear, lover mine.”

“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?”

“The male's diamond eyes locked on Payne, and though she hadn't seen him in forever, she knew who he was. Sure as if she was staring at her own reflection. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes for last she had known, he breathed no longer. "Vishous," she whispered desperately. "Oh, brother mine.”

“Those eerie diamond eyes shifted over to her and she stilled, as if he's willed her to do so. There was a moment of silence. And then in a rough voice the man whose life she saved spoke four words that changed everything...changed her life, changed her destiny: "She. Comes. With. Me.”

“The trainee knew he should leave, but he was unable to look away. He'd never seen anything snap out so fast or strike so hard as the male's fists. Obviously, the rumours about the instructor were all true. He was a flat-out killer. With a metal clank, a door opened at the other end of the gym, and the sound of a newborn's cries echoed up into the high ceiling. The warrior stopped in midpunch and wheeled around as a lovely female carrying young in a pink blanket came over to him. His face softened, positively melted.”

“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.”

“For no good reason, he thought of Xhex. Xhex was a thunderstorm made up of hues of black and iron gray, power leashed but no less lethal for its control. Cormia was a sunny day cast in rainbow of brightness. He put his hand over his heart and bowed to her, then left. As he started up for his room, he wondered whether he liked the storm or the sunshine better.”

“And speaking of on board, she'd moved into John's room properly. In his closet, her leathers and her muscles shirts were hanging next to his, and their shitkickers were lined up together, and all her knives and her guns and her little toys were now locked up in his fire proof cabinet. Their ammo was even stacked together. How frickin' romantic.”

“Phury lit a blunt and eyed the sixteen cans of Aqua Net that were lined up on Butch and V's coffee table. "What's doing with the hair spray? You boys going drag on us?" Butch held up the lenght of PVC pipe he was punching a hole in. "Potato launcher, my man. Big fun." "Excuse me ?" "Didn't you ever go to summer camp ?" "Basket weaving and woodcarving are for humans. No offense, but we have better things to teach our youngs.”

“Wellsie frowned. "I'd like you to stay away from him, okay? He's...not right in a lot of ways. Do you know what I mean?" Actually, John wasn't so sure about that. Yeah, the guy was enough to make you think fondly of the boogeyman sometimes, but clearly he wasn't all bad.”