As V dropped the bomb, there was a momentary period of silent saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay-whaaaaaaaaaaaaat. Then a shit-ton of gasps and cursing in the room, all kinds of WTF hitting the airwaves.
We find ways of repeating things until we get them right. But that can be dangerous. Especially if we're trying to fix things we never should have owned in the first place.
Wait, wait, wait. V waved his hand-rolled around. I'm the son of a deity and she picked you?
You got hair like a girl, Mr. D said. And you smell like bubble bath. At least I can get a trim. I'm wearing Old Spice. Next time try something stronger. Like horse manure. Mr.
With his fantastic mane of multicoloured hair, Phury should have been in Hollywood's league with the ladies, but he'd stuck with his vow of celibacy. There was room for one and only one love in his life, and it had been slowly killing him for years.
Here's what I know to be true. We can bury the past all we like. We can use a hundred thousand distractions, some of which are healthy, some of which are not, to keep it under the ground—but when something isn't processed, it will absolutely, positively come back and bite us on the ass.
She was pretty sure that if she had been, though, none of the hypotheticals would have resembled this in the slightest: surrounded by vampires, possibly pregnant, with a fallen angel in an Elvis costume mangling the ceremony from the Book of Common Prayer.
Man, destiny sucked ass. It just had to barge in and piss all over everyone's rose garden. And now it was taking a shit in the other flower beds.
When you were contemplating cheating on your mate, it was not easy on the conscience. And not something you wanted to do in the home you shared with her.
You are so beautiful, he said as he stared at her, standing there in the light like that.
Marissa took a sip from a glass of water. It's perfectly innocent. I'm doing a naked calendar, the fallen angel started. He had a jockstrap on. It was all done with a selfie stick.
I'm glad you're going, Catya said as she erased the night roster from the whiteboard.
You're the reason I get out of bed every night. And you're the reason I can't wait to come home every dawn. Not the war. Not the Brothers. Not even Butch. It's...you.
Let me kiss you. Qhuinn groaned as he leaned in. I know I don't deserve it, but please ... it's what you can do for me. Let me feel you....
Courtesy of their tempers, both were now dressed in the Captain Asshole costume—which included, for no extra charge, the cape of disgrace, the booties of shame, and keys to the Fuck Up mobile.
Because, hey, nothing says, I wanna date ya, like grounds for a restraining order.
God, now she knew what decent men felt like, the disquiet before taking someone for their first time.
That Zsadist was late was no big surprise. Z was one giant, violent fuck-you to the world. A walking, sometimes talking, usually cursing SOB who took hatred, especially toward females, to new levels.
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.
The Brotherhood was strong, a unit. a powerful force in their world for good. And so too were the females. Strong. A unit. A powerful force for good in their world.
True. This gluten-is-the-enemy thing is total bullshit. And don't get me started on kombucha tea, kale, anything with antioxidants in it, and the fallacy that high-fructose corn syrup is the root of all evil.
Hell yeah, you can pay. This was your idea and I'm not blowing part of my rent money this month just to prove I'm a feminist. I can do that for free by demanding respect and getting it.
It was a universal truth among males that anytime you saw a guy get it in the nuts, you experienced a shot of phantom pain in your own croquet set.
Butch came in from the kitchen, Bud in one hand, sandwich in the other. Hey, big man. S'up? I want the two of you to chain me to my bed.
As he and Beth hit the stairs, he called out to his brothers, Thanks for having my back once again.
Rhage stepped in front of him. Hey, hi! How are you? Hollywood stuck his hand out. I'd like to introduce myself. I'm the piece of meat that's going to force you headfirst into your buddy Qhuinn's Hummer as soon as it gets here. Just figured I'd introduce myself before I rope your ass and throw you over my shoulder like a bag of sand.
I bei momenti sono più luminosi perché sono una certezza. E per lo stesso identico motivo, quelli brutti non possono diventare più tragici. Il passato è sicuro perché è indelebile.
The truth was...he was in love with her. Totally over-the-line, no-going-back, not-even-dead-would-he-part kind of shit.
Written on the mirror, revealed by the steam, were the words, I love you, Jane.
My sex life is private, Butch. So are my…unconventional interests. I hear ya. No one's biz but yours. One question, though. What. When the females tie you down, do they paint your toenails and shit? Or just do your makeup? As V laughed in a loud crack, the cop said, Wait…they tickle your pits with a feather, right?
Even when there were no more options for the body, the heart's wishes find a way out, and as with all warmth, love rises. Besides, the will to fly was in the nature of the soul, so its home had to be up above.
He tapped the artificial leg. I am not whole. True, she thought sadly. He was not whole, although it had nothing to do with him missing part of a limb.
My twin's not broken; he's ruined Do you understand the difference? With Broken maybe you can fix things; Ruined all you can do is wait to bury him -Phury to Bella.
We work together. That's it. So I want you to do us both a favor before you think I ‘need' to know something. Ask yourself, ‘If I were flipping burgers at McDonald's, would I be telling the fucking fry guy this?' If the answer is no, then shut the hell up.
Rehvenge, I'm talking to you more than I speak with my mahmen.
Shit of ten horses, his twin said in the Old Language. The new aftershave of the lessers, Phury muttered, rubbing his eyes.
She wobbled, steadying herself against the pale blue walls. You've been going out alone?
No, you've got it all wrong, John." Reading his emotions, she shook her head. "You're not half the male you could be because of what was done to you. You're twice what anyone else is because you survived.