...collisions were collisions and couldn't be planned...
J.R. WardLife is too frickin' crazy sometimes, it really is.... You never know what's going to happen, do you.
J.R. WardBesides, the mhis that surrounded the compound could scramble anything from GPS to Santa Claus.
J.R. WardThroe accepted the soup and went over to where Xcor had been sitting. Sinking down to the floor, he put the brass box on the far side of himself and began to eat.
Xcor joined him on the stain of the blood he had shed during the day, and in silence, they completed their reunion. But it was not over, at least not on Xcor’s part.
His regret stayed with him, the heaviness of the burden of his actions altering him forever, like an injury that had scarred over and healed wrong.
Or rather, in this case … healed right.
Trust me, true?"
Butch barked a laugh. "Last time you said that i ended up with a vampire cocktail, remember?
Tags: black-dagger-brotherhood j-r-ward vishous bdb butch
Lassiter skidded in from the billiards room, the fallen angel glowing from his black-and-blond hair and white eyes, all the way down to his shitkickers. Then again, maybe the illumination wasn’t his nature, but that gold he insisted on wearing.
He looked like a living, breathing jewelry tree.
“I’m here. Where’s my chauffeur hat?”
“Here, use mine,” Butch said, outing a B Sox cap and throwing it over. “It’ll help that hair of yours.”
The angel caught the thing on the fly and stared at the red S. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“Do not tell me you’re a Yankees fan,” V drawled. “I’ll have to kill you, and frankly, tonight we need all the wingmen we’ve got.”
Lassiter tossed the cap back. Whistled. Looked casual.
“Are you serious?” Butch said. Like the guy had maybe volunteered for a lobotomy. Or a limb amputation. Or a pedicure.
“No fucking way,” V echoed. “When and where did you become a friend of the enemy—”
The angel held up his palms. “It’s not my fault you guys suck—”
Tohr actually stepped in front of Lassiter, like he was worried that something a lot more than smack talk was going to start flying. And the sad thing was, he was right to be concerned. Apart from their shellans, V and Butch loved the Sox above almost everything else—including sanity.
Tags: vishous butch lassiter lover-at-last
Our boy looks impressed.”
“Should be,” Rhage muttered as he jacked the belt on his robe. “We are awesome.”
Multiple groans at that point. Rolled eyes.
“At least he didn’t pull out the ‘totes amazeballs,’” somebody muttered.
“That’s Lassiter,” came an answer.
“Man, that son of a bitch has got to stop watching Nickel-fucking-odeon.
I’m talking to you more than I speak with my mahmen.”
“I thought your mother was dead.”
“She is.”
“You have a very low standard for communication.
Qhuinn took a step forward, with the intention of stepping in, in the event the Brother locked hands on the SOB’s skinny neck: Someone should probably catch the head before it bounced all over their hosts’ rugs. And the deadweight of the body.
Seemed only hospitable.
Saxton shifted exhausted eyes over. "Must we do this?"
"What happened --"
"I think you and he need to talk. And once you do, I won't have to worry about being jumped like a felon again."
Blay frowned. "He and I have nothing to say to each other --"
"with all due respect, the ligature marks on my neck would suggest otherwise.
Tags: black-dagger-brotherhood j-r-ward blay blaylock saxton lover-at-last
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