Brotherhood Of Nod Quotes

She nodded, wondering why couldn't she have been named Mary. Or Sue. But no, she had to be nine-letter Elizabeth.

Butch nodded as if he knew exactly what was doing. "Like I said, my man, it's whatever. You and me? Same as always, no matter who you screw. Although… if you're into sheep, that would be tough. Don't know if I could handle that.

Butch nodded, finding as comfortable a bite as he could on the leather. He braced himself as V lifted an arm. Except when his roommate's palm landed on his bare chest all he felt was a warm weight. Butch frowned. This was it? This was fucking it? Scaring the shit out of Marissa for no good- He looked down, pissed off. Oh, wrong hand.

So would you like to try on some clothes?" Beth nodded at what was in her arms. "I don't have many dresses but Fritz can get you some." You know what?" Marissa eyed the blue jeans the queen had on. "I've never worn a pair of pants before." I've got two pairs here if you want to try them out." Well, wasn't this a night for firsts. Sex. Arson. Pants.

You have cable?” He nodded toward her TV. She tossed him the clicker. “Sure do. And if I remember, there’s a Godzilla marathon on TBS tonight.” “Sweet,” the vampire said, kicking his legs out. “I always root for the monster.” She smiled at him. “Me, too.

Blay’s head whipped around to his mate. “Really? You asked my dad?” Qhuinn nodded, then started to smile like a mother fucker. “It’s my one and only shot. So I wanted to follow protocol.

You're a good Irishman, right?" When Butch nodded, V said, "Irish, Irish… let me think. Yeah…" Vishous's eyes sobered, and in a voice that cracked, he said, "May the road rise to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rains fall soft upon your fields. And… my dearest friend… until we meet again may the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand.

He nodded and curled over his paper, writing quickly. As his words took form on the white page, she got to watch him...and realized she never wanted him to go. She wanted him here beside her forever.

In a quiet voice, he said, "How long's this been going on for you? With her." John took out a small pad he'd brought with him and wrote: Since the moment I first met her. After Rehv read the scribble, he frowned. "She feel the same way?" John did not drop his eyes as he shook his head. No sense hiding shit. Not with a symphath. Rehv nodded once. "That's so like her. Goddamn it...okay, let's do this.

Rhage nodded. “The place is also big enough. We could all live there without killing each other.” “That depends more on your mouth than any floor plan,” Phury said with a grin.

Phury nodded. "And if she lives with us, we get to keep the cat.

When he nodded, the physician disappeared into thin air, and then a moment later, Payne felt a warm palm encompass hers. It was Vishous's un-gloved hand against her own and the connection between them eased her in ways she couldn't name. Verily, she had lost her mother . . . but if she lived through this, she still had family. On this side.

Just once" Blay said softly. "Do it just once. So I'll know what it's like." Qhuinn started to shake his head. "No...I don't think–" "Yes" After a moment, Qhuinn slid both his hands up Blay's thick neck and captured the male's sturdy jaw in his palms. "You sure?" When Blay nodded, Qhuinn titled his friend's head back and to the side and held it in place as he slowly closed the distance. Just before their mouths touched, Blay's eyelashes fluttered down and he trembled and– Oh, it was sweet. Blay's lips were incredibly sweet and soft. The tongue probably wasn't supposed to be part of it, but there was no helping that. Qhuinn licked inside and then sank deep as his arms slipped around Blay and held him hard. When he finally lifted his head, the look in Blay's eyes said he would let anything happen between them. Let it all happen.

Okay, so, Beth, follow me. 'I, Beth, a totally awesome chick ...'" Beth barked out a giggle. "I, Beth ..." "Where's the 'awesome chick' part? What? Come on, I have a license from the Internet. I know what I'm doing." Wrath nodded at his leehan. "He's right. You are, in fact, awesome. I think we need to hear it." "Can I get an amen!" Lassiter shouted. "Ammmmmmmmmen!" echoed throughout the mansion. "Fine, fine, fine," she said. "I, Beth, a totally awesome chick ..." "'... take this meathead, Wrath ...'" "... take this meathead, Wrath ..." "'... as my husband to have and to hold from this day forward...

Qhuinn got down on one knee. Just dropped right on to the depiction of an apple tree in full bloom. “I don’t have a ring. I don’t have anything fancy in my mind or on my tongue.” Qhuinn swallowed hard. “I know this is too early, and that it’s out of the blue, but I love you and I want us to—” For once in his life, Blay had to agree with the guy—enough with the fucking talking. With a decisive shift of his body, he leaned down and kissed all that conversation right into silence. Then he pulled back and nodded. “Yes. Yes, absolutely, yes…

And what do you know, John's hands flew through the positions of ASL in various l-got-this combinations. "Is he deaf" the guy behind the cash register asked in a stage whisper. As if someone using American Sign Language was some kind of freak. "No. Blind." "Oh." As the man kept staring, Qhuinn wanted to pop him. "You going to help us out here or what?" "Oh ... yeah. Hey, you got a tattoo on your face." Mr. Observant moved slowly, like the bar codes on those bags were creating some kind of wind resistance under his laser reader. "Did you know that?" Really. "I wouldn't know." ''Are you blind, too?" No filter on this guy. None. "Yeah, I am." "Oh, so that's why your eyes are all weird." "Yeah. That's right." Qhuinn took out a twenty and didn't wait for change-murder was just a liiiiiittle too tempting. Nodding to John, who was also measuring the dear boy for a shroud, Qhuinn went to walk off. "What about your change ?" the man called out. "I'm deaf, too. I can't hear you." The guy yelled more loudly, "I'll just keep it then, yeah?" "Sounds good," Qhuinn shouted over his shoulder. Idiot was stage-five stupid. Straight up.

I'm going to stay here and see if he comes back," Wrath said as the double doors opened and V strode in. "I want the rest of you out searching for him in the city, but before you go, first let's get an update from our very own Katie Couric." He nodded at Vishous. "Katie?" V's glare was the ocular version of a fully extended middle finger

After a while Mary said, “Zsadist?” “Yeah?” “What are those markings?” His frowned and flicked his eyes over to her, thinking, as if she didn’t know? But then . . . well, she had been a human. Maybe she didn’t. “They’re slave bands. I was . . . a slave.” “Did it hurt when they were put on you?” “Yes.” “Did the same person who cut your face give them to you?” “No, my owner’s hellren did that. My owner . . . she put the bands on me. He was the one who cut my face.” “How long were you a slave?” “A hundred years.” “How did you get free?” “Phury. Phury got me out. That’s how he lost his leg.” “Were you hurt while you were a slave?” Z swallowed hard. “Yes.” “Do you still think about it?” “Yes.” He looked down at his hands, which suddenly were in pain for some reason. Oh, right. He’d made two fists and was squeezing them so tightly his fingers were about to snap off at the knuckles. “Does slavery still happen?” “No. Wrath outlawed it. As a mating gift to me and Bella.” “What kind of slave were you?” Zsadist shut his eyes. Ah, yes, the question he didn’t want to answer. For a while it was all he could do to force himself to stay in the chair. But then, in a falsely level voice, he said, “I was a blood slave. I was used by a female for blood.” The quiet after he spoke bore down on him, a tangible weight. “Zsadist? Can I put my hand on your back?” His head did something that was evidently a nod, because Mary’s gentle palm came down lightly on his shoulder blade. She moved it in a slow, easy circle. “Those are the right answers,” she said. “All of them.” He had to blink fast as the fire in the furnace’s window became blurry. “You think?” he said hoarsely. “No. I know.

John lifted his head and looked down at her. His eyes were worried and he was careful as he brushed at her hair. She smiled. "Nah, I'm fine. I'm more than fine." A sly grin bloomed as he mouthed, ain't that the truth. "Hold up there, big man. You think you can make me blush like I'm some girl ? Pulling that sweet talk?" As he nodded, she rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know I'm not the kind of female who goes all dizzy, popping a stiletto off the floor just because some guy kisses her deep." John was all male as he cocked a brow. And damn it if she didn't feel a tingle in her cheeks. " Listen, John Matthew." She took his chin in her hand. "You're not turning me into one of these females who goes gaga over her lover. Not happening. I'm not hard-wired for that." Her voice was stern and she meant every word, except the instant he rolled his hips and that huge arousal pushed into her, she purred. She purred. The sound was utterly foreign and she'd have sucked it back down her throat if she could have. Instead, she just left out another of those decidedly non-tough-guy moans. John bowed his head to her breast and started suckling on her as he somehow manage to keep thrusting in slow, even penetrations. Swept away, her hands found his hair again, spearing through the thick softness. " Oh, John..." And then he stopped dead, lifted his lips from her nipple, and smiled so wide it was a wonder he didn't bust off his front teeth. His expression was one of total and complete gotcha. " You are a bastard, " she said on a laugh. He nodded. And pressed into her with his full lenght again. It was perfect that he was giving her shit and showing her a little of who was boss. Just perfect. Somehow it made her respect him even more, but then, she'd always loved strength in all its forms. Even the teasing kind. "I'm not surrendering , you know." He pursed his lips and shook his head, all oh, no, of course not. And then he started to pull out of her. As she growled low in her throat, she sank her nails into his ass. "Where do you think you're going ?

So that’s how it is. Today’s the big day.” Beckett nodded with a wry smile. He knows. He was naked now. “How you want me, baby? Execution style? Or you want to look me in the eyes?

I don’t have anything to pay you with now,” Blake said, turning toward Chaos. “But just tell me how much, and I’ll make sure this debt is paid.” Chaos shrugged. “Dude, I owe Beckett. Just let him know.” Blake nodded and stood. Of course. Everyone owes Beckett something.

I'll give them my number, too. And my brother Vishous made sure we have the best reception and service in the city. No dead zones. Unless you're around Lassiter, and that's more of a mental thing than anything about cellular networks." "Um ... Lassiter?" Bitty said. Rhage nodded. "Yeah, he's this pain in the ass--oh, shit--I mean, sorry, I shouldn't say ass around you, should I? Or shit. And all those other bad words." He poked himself in the head. "I gotta remember that, gotta remember that. Anyway, Lassiter's a fallen angel who we've somehow gotten stuck with. He's like gum on the bottom of your shoe. 'Cept he doesn't smell like strawberries, he hogs the T.V. remote, and on a regular basis. you think to yourself, Is that really the best the Creator could do with an immortal? The guy has the worst taste in television--I mean, the only saving grace is that he isn't addicted to Bonanza ...have you ever watched twelve straight hours of Saved by the Bell? Okay, fine, it was probably only seven, and it wasn't like I couldn't have left--my God, I tell you, though, it's a wonder I escaped with my ability to put my pants on one leg at a time still intact ...

With a deliberate shrug, he stepped free of the hold on his shoulder. “Tell me something, boys,” he drawled. “Do you wear that leather to turn each other on? I mean, is it a dick thing with you all?” Butch got slammed so hard against the door that his back teeth rattled. The model shoved his perfect face into Butch’s. “I’d watch your mouth, if I were you.” “Why bother, when you’re keeping an eye on it for me? You gonna kiss me now?” A growl like none Butch had ever heard came out of the guy. “Okay, okay.” The one who seemed the most normal came forward. “Back off, Rhage. Hey, come on. Let’s relax.” It took a minute before the model let go. “That’s right. We’re cool,” Mr. Normal muttered, clapping his buddy on the back before looking at Butch. “Do yourself a favor and shut the hell up.” Butch shrugged. “Blondie’s dying to get his hands on me. I can’t help it.” The guy launched back at Butch, and Mr. Normal rolled his eyes, letting his friend go this time. The fist that came sailing at jaw level snapped Butch’s head to one side. As the pain hit, Butch let his own rage fly. The fear for Beth, the pent-up hatred of these lowlifes, the frustration about his job, all of it came out of him. He tackled the bigger man, taking him down onto the floor. The guy was momentarily surprised, as if he hadn’t expected Butch’s speed or strength, and Butch took advantage of the hesitation. He clocked Blondie in the mouth as payback and then grabbed the guy’s throat. One second later, Butch was flat on his back with the man sitting on his chest like a parked car. The guy took Butch’s face into his hand and squeezed, crunching the features together. It was nearly impossible to breathe, and Butch panted shallowly. “Maybe I’ll find your wife,” the guy said, “and do her a couple of times. How’s that sound?" “Don’t have one.” “Then I’m coming after your girlfriend.” Butch dragged in some air. “Got no woman.” “So if the chicks won’t do you, what makes you think I’d want to?” “Was hoping to piss you off.” “Now why’d you want to do that?” Blondie asked. “If I attacked first”—Butch hauled more breath into his lungs—“your boys wouldn’t have let us fight. Would’ve killed me first. Before I had a chance at you.” Blondie loosened his grip a little and laughed as he stripped Butch of his wallet, keys, and cell phone. “You know, I kind of like this big dummy,” the guy drawled. Someone cleared a throat. Rather officiously. Blondie leaped to his feet, and Butch rolled over, gasping. When he looked up, he was convinced he was hallucinating. Standing in the hall was a little old man dressed in livery. Holding a silver tray. “Pardon me, gentlemen. Dinner will be served in about fifteen minutes.” “Hey, are those the spinach crepes I like so much?” Blondie said, going for the tray. “Yes, Sire.” “Hot damn.” The other men clustered around the butler, taking what he offered. Along with cocktail napkins. Like they didn’t want to drop anything on the floor. What the hell was this? “Might I ask a favor?” the butler said. Mr. Normal nodded with vigor. “Bring out another tray of these and we’ll kill anything you want for you.” Yeah, guess the guy wasn’t really normal. Just relatively so. The butler smiled as if touched. “If you’re going to bloody the human, would you be good enough to do it in the backyard?” “No problem.” Mr. Normal popped another crepe in his mouth. “Damn, Rhage, you’re right. These are awesome.

I think I need to get home and talk to my dad. He’ll be worried if he doesn’t see us. Would you like to meet him?” “I’d be honored,” Blake said with a nod.

Cole quickly shook his head. “Blake, you’re looking great,” he said instead. Blake nodded. “Livia wouldn’t have it any other way.

I think a call to Chaos is in order,” Blake said, looking at Cole. Cole nodded, and Beckett smiled. “Thanks,” he said.

You hurt,too?" When the female nodded, Marissa was stunned. Then a little relieved. "It wasn't all painful. I mean, what led up to it was ... is amazing. Butch makes me... he's just so... the way he touches me, I get... Oh, God, I can't believe I'm talking like this. And I can't explain what it's like with him." Beth chuckled. "That's all right. I know what you mean." "Really?" "Oh, yeah." The queen's dark blue eyes glowed. "I know exactly what you mean.

I should return to the infirmary, said Jem. There is much still for me to do. Will nodded, releasing James. “I know Gideon and Sophie would feel better if you were the one tending Barbara. Not to insult Brother Shadrach, who I’m sure is an excellent and well-respected member of the Brotherhood.” Jem shook his head, which was as close as he got to smiling.

They do the twenty-one-gun salute for the good guys, right? So I brought this.” Beckett pointed the gun in the sky. “For Mouse.” One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen shots exploded from Beckett’s gun. “Who am I fucking kidding? What the hell does a gun shot by me mean? Nothing special, that’s for damn sure. Fuck it.” “For Mouse, who watched over my sister and saved Blake and me from more than we could’ve handled in the woods that night.” Livia nodded at Beckett, and he squeezed the trigger. When the sound had cleared, she counted out loud. “Seventeen.” Kyle stepped forward and replaced Livia at Beckett’s arm. “For Mouse. I didn’t know you well, but I wish I had.” The air snapped with the shot. “Eighteen.” Cole rubbed Kyle’s shoulder as he approached. He took the gun from Beckett’s hand. “For Mouse, who protected Beckett from himself for years.” The gun popped again. “Nineteen.” Blake thought for a moment with the gun pointed at the ground, then aimed it at the sky. “For Mouse, who saved Livia’s life when I couldn’t. Thank you is not enough.” The gun took his gratitude to the heavens. “Twenty.” Eve took the gun from Blake, the hand that had been shaking steadied. “Mouse, I wish you were still here. This place was better when you were part of it.” The last shot was the most jarring, juxtaposed with the perfect silence of its wake. As if the bullet was a key in a lock, the gray skies opened and a quiet, lovely snow shower filtered down. The flakes decorated the hair of the six mourners like glistening knit caps. Eve turned her face to be bathed in the fresh flakes. “Twenty-one,” she said softly, replacing her earpiece.

Blake and Beckett touched tattoos in greeting. Beckett turned his other arm over to show Blake his bandage. Blake lifted one eyebrow, and Beckett peeled the tape back to reveal his new Sorry tattoo, a perfect replica of his brother’s. “Cole got one too,” Beckett said. Blake looked off in the distance as his eyes filled with emotion. Beckett pulled Blake’s face back to look at him and held it in his hand. “Never alone, bro. You’re never alone as long as I live.” Blake nodded. “Thanks.

I hope you know how rare a girl like Livia is.” Blake nodded, but said nothing. “I’ve only met a few souls as crystal clear as hers,” Bea continued. “One of them was my Aaron; we were married for sixty-two years. Souls like that, my boy, are a gift. Cherish her.” “I will.” Blake stood and gave Bea a formal bow only he could get away with.

Livia nodded. Seeing him puttering around in her kitchen, turning on the familiar faucet, solidified her feeling of destiny. She knew, staring at his back, that he would not go hungry again. She would have him, warm and safe, with her every day. It was perfectly clear. She would need to talk with her father. It was time for her to be on her own.

The music was so loud, all Livia could do was mouth, “Are you okay?” Blake nodded. “You’re beautiful,” he mouthed in response.

Book club isn’t just about books.” Malcolm nodded solemnly. “It’s a brotherhood, man.

She nodded. And dematerialized right out of his hand.

Finally Cole spoke. “Shall we exchange rings?” He nodded at Beckett, who let the rings fall into Cole’s hands as if it were the most important job he’d ever done. Perhaps to him it was.

Livia nodded and unwrapped a pink page from the stem of her bouquet. She spoke softly, so only Blake could hear her. But the audience felt the moment by watching Blake’s eyes as she spoke.

Kyle nodded and bit her lip. She looked nervous as a virgin. “This feels like jumping off a cliff,” she finally said. “I’ll only do this if you want me to. Do you want me to?” Cole took a step back. Kyle reached around and unzipped her sundress. She held her arms out like a sacrificial lamb. “Say it, so I know for sure.” Cole’s eyes glowed with lust and reverence. “I want you to.” Kyle watched him.

Book club isn’t just about books.” Malcolm nodded solemnly. “It’s a brotherhood, man.” “A way of life,” one of the city officials said. Mack slung an arm over Wilson’s shoulder. “An emotional fucking journey.

Phury nodded his multicolored head. “Yes. But—” In the Old Language, she hissed, “If any harm shall befall him, I will come after you, and find you where you sleep. I do not care where you lay your head or who with, my vengeance shall rain upon you until you drown.” That last word was drawn out, until its syllable was lost in more growling. Dead silence. Until Doc Jane said dryly, “Annnnd this is why they say the female of the species is more dangerous than the male.

A small lady moved on after greeting Livia to address the wedding couple. “Cole Bridge. Look at you!” Cole’s mouth dropped open. “Mrs. D?” After a shocked pause, he scooped her into a hug. “You’re here?” “Of course I am, sweetheart. Your wonderful wife delivered the invitation by hand. She insisted it be a surprise.” Mrs. D rubbed Cole’s arm. Cole turned to Kyle. “Thank you so much. I didn’t know you were going to do this.” Kyle nodded. “I know how much she means to you,” she said.

He checked her face first to see if she was all right, then dropped his eyes to the keyboard. It was like someone had plugged him in. His eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and he stretched his fingers. “Will you play it, Blake? Will you?” Livia almost jumped with excitement. Blake covered his smile. He nodded. Livia plopped the keyboard on the kitchen table, which was still moist from where he’d wiped it with the kitchen sponge. Blake kissed her and then spoke solemnly. “I’ll play it for you.

Livia covered the phone until Kyle looked at her. “You’re simply the best lady I know. I promise not to be oblivious anymore.” Kyle nodded. “I love you too. Want to make out?” Despite her mocking tone, Kyle squeezed Livia’s hand before getting out of the car.

Beckett pulled Livia back into the room by her belt. “Loving that guy is the only thing I’ve ever done right,” he said. “Please don’t break his heart.” Livia nodded, eyes wide. Beckett’s soul was talking to her, not the tough bad boy he seemed to pretend to be.

If I watched your church burn down, would you kill me?” Cole looked suspicious. “No, and that’s a bizarre question.” “If I watched Kyle die, would you kill me?” Cole’s eyes practically glowed red. Beckett nodded. “You might already have the answer to what’s hurting you.

I love you.” She was almost angry. “Do you get it? You. These kids. This life. It is my world.” He nodded. She knew he felt the same way, but this Blake didn’t talk, he proved. He found the spot on her body that made her see white and held her until she was desperate for more. Then he reached behind her and turned on the washer. Dirty. Filthy for her. He kissed her and added tongue, bit her neck gently while the vibrations from the machine increased. She would come for him like this. He pushed up her shirt and pulled down her panties so he could be inside her when she was lost in the ecstasy of it, of him. He came right after she did, and she locked him close with her legs, dragging her nails down his back as he bit his lip to stay quiet. He kissed the top of her head in between gasps for air. He looked in her eyes before responding, “I get it.

Do you want to hold her?” Qhuinn asked. Xcor recoiled as if someone had inquired whether he’d like a hot poker in his hands. Then he recovered, shaking his head as he made a manly show of scrubbing his tears away like they were permanent marker on his cheeks. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for that. She looks…so delicate.” “She’s strong, though. She’s got her mahmen’s blood in her, too.” Qhuinn looked at Blay. “And she’s got good parents. They both do. We’re in this together, people, three fathers and one mom, two kids. Bam!” Xcor’s voice got low. “A father…?” He laughed softly. “I went from having no family, to having a mate, a brother, and now…” Qhuinn nodded. “A son and a daughter. As long as you are Layla’s hellren, you are their father, too.” Xcor’s smile was transformative, so wide that it stretched his face into something she had never seen. “A son and a daughter.” “That’s right,” Layla whispered with joy. But then instantly that expression on his face was gone, his lips thinning out and his brows dropping down like he was ready to go on the attack. “She is never dating. I don’t care who he is—” “Right!” Qhuinn put his palm out for a high five. “That’s what I’m talking about!” “Now, hold on,” Blay interjected as they clapped hands. “She has every right to live her life as she chooses.” “Yes, come on,” Layla added. “This double-standard stuff is ridiculous. She’s going to be allowed…” As the argument started up, she and Blay fell in beside each other, and Qhuinn and Xcor lined up shoulder to shoulder, their massive forearms crossed over their chests. “I’m good with a gun,” Xcor said like that was the end of things. “And I can handle the shovel,” Qhuinn tacked on. “They’ll never find the body.” The two of them pounded knuckles and looked so dead serious that Layla had to roll her eyes. But then she was smiling. “You know something?” she said to the three of them. “I really believe…that it’s all going to be okay. We’re going to work it out, together, because that’s what families do.” As she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed her male, she said, “Love has a way of fixing everything…even your daughter starting to date.” “Which is not going to happen,” Xcor countered. “Ever.” “My man,” Qhuinn said, backing him up. “I knew I liked you—” “Oh, for the love,” Layla muttered as the debate resumed, and Blay started laughing and Qhuinn and Xcor continued bonding. -Qhuinn, Xcor, Layla, & Blay

Livia kissed his chin. “Blake, I need you to do something for me. Will you do something for me?” Livia felt a little dirty about forcing him to agree before she told him how much she was asking. “I’ll do whatever you wish.” Blake inclined his head in a solemn gesture. “Will you walk in the sunlight if these are covering you?” Livia held out her sunshields. Blake looked at the items. Then he nodded and took the mask. Livia knew this was a risk. Hell, she was half sure she was delirious with lack of sleep and desperation. But she had an insatiable need to heal. I may lose him, but goddamn it, I have to try.

Blake waited for her to look at him with a smile, but her shoes were still too captivating. He held a hand up to stop Cole from beginning the ceremony. He knelt on one knee, close to the hem of her dress, and looked up at her. She watched him as he kissed her hand. “Beautiful, enchanting Livia, will you marry me today?” Livia’s disobedient tears emerged, gravity bathing his smiling face with their small, splashy wishes. She took her hand from his and covered her mouth. She nodded over and over as she cried. Blake stood and gathered her. Livia dissolved into him, leaving the guests alternately tearing up or looking in other directions. Blake tried to stroke her hair through the veil, but he was afraid he would pull it out. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m not that terrible, am I?” Livia shook her head. “I’m making you my wife right now, even if you cry through the whole damn thing.” Blake switched to wiping her tears.

I present Mr. and Mrs. Cole Bridge. You may kiss the bride.” Father Callahan gave Cole a nod of approval. Cole faced Kyle and wrapped her in his arms. He pulled her off her feet and closer to his face. Livia and Blake were the only ones close enough to hear Cole’s private vows. He kissed her once, gently and almost chastely. “For our past.” Cole kissed her again, just a breath of a kiss, lightly touching her lips. “For today.” The last kiss was deeper, but still maintained church decorum. It was the intimacy in his gaze that made the guests feel voyeuristic. “For the rest of our lives,” he said softly as he set her back on her feet.

After smiling for a family photo with his daughters, John announced, “All right. I talked to the boys. Beckett, you can stay for the reception.” He nodded while he granted the reprieve. “Afterward, we’ll bring you in for questioning.” John turned to leave, but Blake caught his attention. “Sir, thank you. It means the world to me that he’s here.

May I escort you inside, Mrs. Hartt?” Livia bit her lower lip and nodded. Blake scooped her up. To be carried was such a basic thing. And yet it felt…Primal? Almost. Religious? Maybe. She focused on his deep, even breaths as he maneuvered through the doorway. Livia laughed a little at herself. She was grateful for the simple act of Blake’s breathing.

Those who dare to speak to me directly call me Sin." She nodded. "Cyn? Short for Cynric?" "Nay," he said, recovering his stoicism as he remembered who and what he was. "S-I-N. As in conceived in, born in, and am currently living happily in." He felt her hand tremble for the first time. "You like to frighten people, don't you?" she asked. "Aye." "Why?" "Why not?" -Sin & Callie

Kyle, please. Stop. This isn’t you. You aren’t even here anymore,” Cole said softly with his arms around her. Kyle blinked and shook her head. Shame. Again. Then she fought him desperately—eyeing her scattered clothes and the door. “You don’t have to do this for me. I don’t want a show.” Cole put his hands on her face and kissed her lips gently. For the first time. Their separated souls rejoiced and found each other again. He lifted her off the altar and set her on her feet. “Be you for me, Kyle. Be the Kyle you’re so very afraid of being. I’ll keep her safe.” Cole skimmed his lips along her cheek and looked at her hopefully. Kyle gazed into his eyes and nodded solemnly. The moment seemed bigger than the two of them. Cole asked permission. “Kyle McHugh, may I worship you?” A tear fell from her eye as she whispered, “Yes.” Cole took a step back and whipped the cloth off her shoulders. She was no vixen now. Kyle looked terrified. She clenched her fists, as if willing herself not to run. Cole turned and gathered her scattered clothes. He found her panties and took them to her, kneeling at her feet. Kyle looked puzzled, but as he worked the panties up her legs, she got it. Unlike all the other men, he was dressing her.

Listen, Mouse wants us to find Blake,” Eve pleaded. “That’s why he’s pointing. That’s why he took out three assholes on his own like a gladiator. I want to sit and cry. I want to get him in the back of his own hearse and treat him like a goddamn king. But right now, we’re going to finish what he started.” Beckett stood and nodded. As wrong as it felt, he needed to leave his friend—no, my brother—lying dead here. At least for now.

Blake, Cole, and I have been family for each other, because the ones we started with were for crap. Why they let me in, I still don’t know. But because they did, I believed I was worth more than I would have otherwise.” He nodded and gathered his thoughts for a moment. “Blake’s company made me want to hug trees and hear music. Cole’s company made me want to try harder to be a better person. I never imagined that anyone could love either of these men enough for me to let them go.” “But I didn’t know about the McHugh girls. Their love is fiercer than guns. More powerful than fistfuls of money. I can walk away because of them. Officer McHugh? I want to thank you again for letting me see this through. I know my peace of mind is far from your concern, but I appreciate it anyway.” Beckett held his glass up high. “To my brothers. They’ve finally gotten the lives they deserve.

I have to ask you something—promise me you’ll be open-minded?” She looked tentative. He nodded. “I’ve got some mad skills. Some mad sex skills. I want to do stuff to you, without you worrying about me.” She looked at him with one eye closed. “I can never promise to stop worrying about you,” Cole said, smiling. “You’re all I think about. But I’m sure my body is up to this task. Do as you must. I won’t fight you off,” he said with a resolute sigh.

Blake shook his head at Beckett’s lack of manners but held the chair out for Livia. She sat and smiled at Beckett like he was a guest at her freaking wedding. She’s so damn happy. Blake accepted the two water bottles from a server with a nod of gratitude. He opened his first and handed it to Livia, taking her unopened one as his own. She bit her lip and smiled. Simple shit makes this chick crap bubbles and rainbows. Beckett shook his head, rattling his mental snow globe again.

As they stepped away, Beckett nodded toward Blake’s bandaged arm. “What’d ya get?” “It says ‘Sorry,’” Blake said as he went out the door to Cole’s private quarters, leaving his brothers alone. Beckett dialed his cell phone and spoke to Cole while it rang. “What time’s good for you?” Cole sighed. “Around one-thirty today would work.” “Chaos!” Beckett yelled into the phone. “Fit me and my brother into your busy fucking schedule of dusting lawn gnomes and staring out that dirty shed window. We’ll be there at one-thirty.

Eve let go of a rope she’d clung to for too long. And she fell. She fell right into him. Wrong or right, she gave up judging. Her lips found his, and he kissed her gently, not demanding any more than she was willing to offer. Eve added her tongue, exploring his taste. She grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and traced his gunshot wounds with her other. He let her lead. My call. Kill him or love him. He’ll allow either. Beckett smiled into her kiss when she started to shudder and fidget. She’d chosen passion. “Are you sure?” He made her look at him. She could only nod. Together they took off her leather armor. Then just before she could straddle him, Beckett stopped her. “Shit! Hold on. Let me get rid of this. My luck I’ll blow my balls off right fucking now.” Beckett put the gun on the floor and kicked it away. Eve put her knees on either side of his hips. She held herself just out of his reach and broke her last mental barriers. Then she slammed down on top of him with such force, she was sure Beckett was glad she had such impeccable aim.

Because in all of his adult life he’d been through the full gamut of emotions . . . and he’d never once felt like this. Whole. Complete. At peace. “Holly, you are so much more than I thought you were,” he whispered, brushing her cheek. As those lovely eyes of hers grew watery, she said, “And you’ve turned out to be everything I wished you’d be.” “Well, hasn’t this been the show of a lifetime, then?” He kissed her slowly. “And I have the perfect ending.” “You do?” Gregg nodded and put his mouth to her ear. In a soft whisper, he said, “I love you.

Marissa,” he mumbled, taking her hand. “Don’t want to see you drink so much.” Wait, not really what he’d been going for. “Ah . . . don’t want you to see me drink so much . . . want.” Whatever. God . . . he was so confused. V smiled a little, but it was the kind of falsey number doctors gave to patients who were about to throw up. “He’s going to need something with sugar in it. Rhage, you got a lollipop on you?” Butch looked over as a wicked handsome blond guy knelt down. “I know you,” Butch said. “Hey . . . buddy.” “Hey, my man.” Rhage reached into the pocket of his fleece and pulled out a Tootsie Pop. After ripping the wrapper off, he put the thing into Butch’s mouth. Butch groaned. Goddamn, that was the best thing he’d ever tasted in his whole life. Grape. Sweet. Ahhhh . . . “Is he seizing again?” Marissa asked. “I think he likes it,” Rhage murmured. “That right, cop?” Butch nodded and nearly lost the lollipop, so Rhage took control of the stick, holding it in place. Man, they were so good to him. Marissa stroking his hair and holding his hand. V’s palm a warm weight on his leg. Rhage making sure the Toosie Pop stayed where it needed to be—

The nurses told me what you did, Livia. You made my heart beat in the woods.” He looked at her lips and continued, “You gave me breath. Were you scared, love? I’m sorry.” “You’re apologizing because you stopped breathing?” Livia wrinkled her nose. He nodded reverently. “I left you in the clearing again.” “You took the bullet that had my name on it and let it lodge in your back,” Livia responded. “You never left me in those woods. You gave me strength when I needed it. You don’t need to apologize, but it’s perfectly acceptable for you to never, ever stop breathing again.” She touched his Sorry tattoo.

Okay, he needed to pull himself together—before Rhage’s elbow nailed him in the liver again, and Selena bolted back to his bedroom. “You are . . . I am . . .” He pulled at the collar of his silk shirt, even though the thing was wide-open. “You like it?” she said. All he could do was nod. He was literally nothing but hormones in a black suit. She was that beautiful to him. “Really?” More nodding. “Uh-huh. Really.” Selena started to smile. Then she glanced back at the females, who jumped up and down and gave her thumbs-up. His queen turned back to him. Stepped in close. Took his hands and stretched up to whisper in his ear, “The only thing they didn’t give me was underwear.” Naked. She was n-n-n-n-nakey under that.

Blake Hartt, if you touch me, your skin must be bare. Do you understand?” Livia looked into his green eyes. They seemed confused, but he nodded. Livia wished she’d worn something more romantic, but no matter. This wasn’t about clothes; it was about skin. She kicked off her sneakers and stepped away from him. Come get me, Livia said with her eyes. She pulled off her sweatpants and felt the cool air snap at her skin. She walked further and stopped in the center of the clearing next to the miraculous saplings. She now stood right where they’d been before when they’d failed. She took her jacket off and let it fall. She created a trail of clothes like little stepping stones to hope. Livia had always been shy about her body. But she could do this here, now. She was asking so much of him. She pulled her sweatshirt off and stood in her bra and panties. She shook a little from the cold and the risk. She willed him to take the chance as well. He hadn’t moved, just stood squeezing the handle of the cheerful umbrella and watching Livia like she was walking a tightrope without a net. Livia reached behind her and unlatched her bra. She added it to her trail of clothes. Blake flexed and closed a gloved hand. Livia slipped off her white panties. Now she was here—nude for him—if he could bring himself to walk across the meadow. She shivered and fought the need to cover her chilly skin. Blake kept his eyes on hers, not yet indulging in the sight before him. “You’re cold,” he said softly. Livia nodded. “I’m cold and alone out here.” I will stay put. I will not cry. Come to me. Come to me. And he did. He made slow, steady progress until he stood in front of her.

He seemed to be drinking in her face, looking at her instead of into her. “Stop. Stop that. This isn’t goodbye.” Blake pulled her left hand to his mouth and kissed her ring finger. “I’m still glad it’s empty. He never deserved you. Of that, I’m very sure.” Livia saw moisture in his eyes. “You’re saying goodbye. No. Here’s what I’m sure of. I’ll walk away from this house right now, wearing only what I have on my back and be happy. With you I can taste forever—it’s right here.” Livia pointed at her lips and then kissed his. Blake allowed the kiss, but mumbled a question as well, “How many shotguns does he have?” “Not enough to get me away from you.” Livia traced his jaw. Blake took her hand and kissed her palm, then her forehead, “Livia, go in there and let him talk to you. He’s a father. I’d want to talk to my daughter at a moment like this. Let’s give him that respect.” “I will not go in there. Where will you go?” Livia felt a gentle tug on her heart. She was torn. She wanted to comfort her dad and get him to understand who Blake was, but in as little time as possible so she could get back to Blake. “My inamorata, you know where I’ll be: where I’ll always be. Waiting. For you.” Blake began putting the mask on. Livia looked around wildly, feeling close to irrational. “I don’t want you to go.” These words were inadequate to express her need. Blake smoothed her hair away from her face. “I’ve often wished I had a father. Let me help him be that. He needs you to himself for a just a little while.” Livia’s love for her dad gave her the strength to step back and nod. She stood on the porch and watched Blake’s retreating form. Every once in a while he turned to wave, and just before he reached the end of her street, he stopped to look at her. Neither of them waved this time.

Livia, I’m here to say it’s okay. It’s okay if you want to leave, live a normal life, have a husband with a great job and beautiful children with your gray eyes.” His breath caught a little as he finished. Livia, just a gut feeling, but let him come to you…Listen to him. Livia stayed silent instead of rushing in with words. “I’m asking permission to watch you from a distance, just to make sure you’re safe,” Blake continued. “You won’t even know I’m there. I promise.” Blake removed his hands from her face. “Are you done?” Livia wanted to make sure. Blake stepped back and nodded as if they’d just completed a painful business transaction, like buying a coffin. Livia shook her head and launched herself at him. He caught her as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She held his face like he’d just held hers. His green eyes were unsure, but a tiny spark danced within them. “Blake Hartt, I choose you. I deserve you. I want you.” Livia proved it by kissing his cold lips until they were warm. Blake laughed and pulled away to look at her with tears and rain in his eyes. “Really? Really. Really!” Livia nodded. “Absolutely.” Blake kissed Livia this time. He started out gently and then became more serious. He carried her over to the station’s brick wall and pressed her back against it. He put her feet on the ground as he grabbed a fistful of her soaking wet hair. Livia reached under his T-shirt to feel his stomach and then his chest. Blake moaned and pushed her harder against the building. But again he pulled back to look at her. “Me? I want you to be sure,” he said. “You,” Livia whispered. “Me.” His eyes were full of intent. “Always you.” Livia gave him her biggest, heartfelt smile. “Five hundred.” Blake touched her face as if she might be a mirage and smiled back only when she didn’t disappear.

He got up out of bed, walked across the room, and put his glowing hand to her face with hesitation. On a sigh she leaned into the imprint of his palm and the warmth of his flesh. “Is this you?” he said hoarsely. She nodded and reached out to his cheeks, which were a little red. “You’ve been crying.” He captured her hand. “I feel you.” “Me, too.” He touched her neck, her shoulder, her sternum. Brought her arm forward and looked at it…well, through it. “Um…so I can sit on things,” she said for no particular reason. “I mean…while I was waiting out there, I sat on the couch. I also moved a picture on the wall, put a penny back in your change dish, picked up a magazine. It’s a little weird, but all I have to do is concentrate.” Shit. She had no idea what she was saying. “The, ah…the Scribe Virgin said I could eat but I didn’t have to. She said…I could drink, too. I’m not sure how it all works, but she seems to know. Yeah. So. Anyway, I think it’s going to take some time to figure out the drill, but…” He put his hand into her hair and it felt the same as it had before. Her nonexistent body registered the sensations exactly as it had before. He frowned, then looked downright angry. “She said it required a sacrifice. To bring someone back. What did you give her? What did you bargain with?” “How do you mean?” “She doesn’t give things away without demanding something in return. What did she take from you?” “Nothing. She never asked me for anything.” He shook his head and seemed like he was going to speak. But then he wrapped his heavy arms around her and held her against his trembling, glowing body. Unlike the other times when she had to concentrate to find solidity, with V it just happened. Against him, she was corporeal with no effort on her part. She could tell he was crying by the way he breathed and the fact that he leaned on her, but she knew that if she made any mention of it, or tried to soothe him with words, he would stop on a dime. So she just held him and let him go. Then again, she was kind of busy holding herself together. “I thought I would never get to do this again,” he said in a voice that cracked. -Vishous & Jane

But then Cole ran for her, sliding on his knees to close the final distance between his hands and her skin. Kyle wrapped his head in her arms, cradling him. “My sweet Cole. That’s better. That’s better.” Kyle braced her hands on his shoulders and slowly lowered herself to her knees. She put her hands on his cheeks and waited until he looked at her. “You forgot something last night.” Cole looked puzzled. “You made me promise you something. Now you owe me a promise.” Cole nodded somberly. “Be the real Cole. Promise me you will be you.” Kyle’s voice was strong and sure. Cole felt his heart soar with her embrace, settling the feelings inside him. “Kyle, I’ve done so much wrong. I think I’m done being the real Cole. How much hurt can I cause?” He could hardly speak through his fear. She smiled again. “I’ve done my own share of wrong, but look. Look around. We’re in the perfect place.” The church looked like paradise. A frame of broken rainbows arched above the lovers on their knees. Cole held her face to his, whispering, “Help me.” Kyle gave him the absolution he needed with her lips.

Daring to approach the brothers’ tension-filled embrace, Livia touched one of Beckett’s coiled arms. “Beckett.” She waited until his furious face turned toward her mouth. “I still need you. Here. I can’t wait for him without you. You promised. I’m not man enough. Remember?” Livia held her breath. “You’ve got your sister,” he said quietly. “Let go of him, Cole. Please.” Livia nodded at the puzzle of arms, each with its own agenda. Cole looked reluctant as he stepped away, keeping his body between Beckett and Chris. “It has to be all of us. Don’t ask me how I know, but I do. We all have to sit here and hope for the best. Pray for the best. Even with that pile of shit right there.” Livia didn’t have to point; they could all feel pulsating of the evil that was lodged in Chris. “We have to think about Blake—getting fixed, getting healed, getting back to us. Adding murder to tonight is wrong. It’s all wrong. You have to make a different choice. I trust you, Beckett. You can do this.” Livia’s earnest words seemed to make Beckett want to curse. His face boiled red for a moment. Only Beckett could hear Livia’s gentle breath that pleaded, “Please.” Rather than leaping to action, he rubbed his forehead and took in great gasps of air. Finally, he grabbed her head in a giant hug. “For you, Whitebread. Only for fucking you.

All four of them turned to see Christian standing in the open doorway. He wore a pair of black breeches and a black tunic that he’d left untied about his neck, showing her that he hadn’t donned his armor. His handsome face was pale but determined. “This is no longer your fight, Christian,” Adara said. “I will raise my own army.” He scoffed at that. “Aye, but it is. They made it so the instant they traveled here like a pack of wild dogs to kill us.” Phantom laughed evilly. “No man kills me and lives.” Christian nodded. “Exactly.” Adara frowned at them, not understanding the phrase. “It was a pact they took in prison,” Thomas explained to her. “No one would take their lives without paying dearly for it.” Christian’s pale blue eyes fairly glowed in the dim light of the refectory. “I never had any intention of going to Elgedera. But they didn’t send a single man to kill me or Adara, they sent an entire garrison or more, and that was their mistake. They have dropped the gauntlet before me and I intend to return it fully met.” Christian looked at each of them in turn. “Basilli and Selwyn have no intention of letting this matter end until we are dead. Therefore I shall end it once and for all. The prince is going home to be crowned king and to exact his revenge. Swear your fealty to me, Phantom, and I’ll see to it that you’ll have the choicest land in the kingdom.” “Why would you choose me?” “Because you have ever been in my shadow, lurking there and only emerging when I need you. I never understood why, but your loyalty has long been noted and appreciated. I would have no other man at my back for this.” Phantom seemed to consider his words. “Are you ready for the battle, Abbot?” He nodded grimly. Adara smiled in relief. Part of her was grateful, but the other part didn’t like the thought of adding any more grief to a man who had suffered so much. “Are you certain you want to do this?” Christian turned toward her. “They won’t leave me in peace, therefore I intend to leave them in pieces.” Phantom lifted his cup. “God save the king.” “And the queen,” Lutian chimed in sincerely. -Adara, Christian, Phantom, Thomas, & Lutian

I don’t trust mercenaries,” Adara said. “Too often they can be bought by your enemies.” Thomas, Christian, and Phantom laughed at that. “Trust me, my lady,” Christian said, “no one could ever buy their loyalty.” “Many a dead man has made the same claim,” Lutian said from his end of the table. Thomas made a tsking noise. “He’s right about that. I trust Ioan, but some of his men—” “Will die if they betray us,” Phantom said menacingly. He pulled his knife out of the table from where he had embedded it and tested the edge against his fingers. “I’ve sent many a man to his grave for lesser things.” His eerie gaze became intense, almost mad-looking. “Death to any who betray our kinship.” “Aye,” Christian agreed. Suddenly he grimaced, then gasped as if his shoulder were paining him again. Adara went to him immediately. “You should return to bed.” He nodded. “I’ll rest tonight, but we have much to do come morning.” She couldn’t believe he would even suggest such a thing. “Why not stay here a few days so that you can recover?” Christian rubbed his shoulder. “The assassins sent after us won’t wait and I’ve no wish to see the monks here endangered in my fight. Not to mention they wouldn’t think kindly on an army being amassed on holy property.” Her husband did have a point. The Church did tend to frown on warfare. “I still think you need to rest.” He smiled at that as if it amused him. “Good night,” Christian said before he turned and left. Adara followed him. She didn’t speak until he was back in his room, getting into bed. “I’m sorry that I caused your wounds, Christian.” “You didn’t cause my wounds, Adara,” he said as he lay down. “The men wielding swords did that.” -Adara, Christian, Lutian, Thomas, & Phantom

The men are ready to ride,” Ioan said as he came up the stairs behind him. Christian nodded. “Knowing Adara, I’m sure we’re already packed as well. I just need to don my armor and I, too, will be ready.” Ioan was about to leave him when they heard something shatter inside Christian’s room. A heartbeat later, Adara screamed. Terror, panic, and anger descended on Christian as he swung open the door to find her in the room with two other men who were trying to hold her down. “I’ll make you pay for that, bitch,” the one holding her said as he tore open her gown. Christian flew across the room, ready to kill them both. He grabbed the one holding his wife and knocked him against the wall, then turned to knock the other one back. But when the one who had touched her came back to swing at him, he lost all control. All he could see was the man ripping Adara’s gown, the terror on her face. He slugged her assailant repeatedly, then grabbed his head and banged it against the floor until he felt Ioan pulling him back. “Christian, stop! You’re going to kill him.” Enraged beyond reason, he slammed the man’s head against the floor one last time, then turned on the other, who was pushing himself up from the floor. His lip was busted as he stared at Christian in disbelief. “Go see to Adara,” Ioan snapped, pulling him away from the other attacker. Needing to make sure she was all right, Christian went to her. She was huddled on the floor, weeping. “Shhh,” he said soothingly as he pulled her into his arms. She looked up at him, her lips quivering, to show him her battered face. It was more than he could stand. Rising, he went after her attackers again, only to find Ioan blocking his way. “Get out of my way, Ioan, or I’ll thrash you, too. I mean it.” Ioan refused to budge. “Let the sheriff handle this.” “Why are you so angry?” the taller attacker asked. “You are one of us. ’Tis only fair we take a Saracen whore—” Christian shoved Ioan away from him as he lunged for the man and cut his words off with a vicious backhand. “That is my wife you speak of, you bastard. My wife you attacked.” The color faded from the man’s face. Suddenly Phantom was there, pulling him back as Ioan came forward. “Let go of me!” Christian shouted. “I want justice.” “I can’t let you hurt them, Christian,” Ioan said apologetically. “They are the ones who have just come back with Agbert and Dagger. They spent the past seven years in a Saracen prison.” Still, he fought against Phantom’s hold. “It doesn’t give them the right to attack an innocent woman, and most especially not mine.” “Nay, it doesn’t,” Ioan agreed. “I will see them into the sheriff’s custody.” Far from appeased, Christian finally succeeded in shoving Phantom away from him to return to Adara’s side.

A few minutes later, Phantom returned with a gown. “’Tis not fancy, but it will suffice.” They left Adara alone to dress. Corryn ran off to wait with the men downstairs while Phantom and Christian waited in the hallway. “If you want, I will go to the jail and kill them before we leave,” Phantom offered. It was tempting, but not realistic. Not even Phantom was that talented. “You can’t do that.” Phantom laughed evilly. “Trust me, I could get into their cell and have their throats slit and be out again before even they knew it.” There were times when Phantom almost scared him. He didn’t know what disturbed him more, the fact that Phantom offered or the fact that he seemed so willing to spill their blood. “Adara says to leave them be.” Phantom shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what Christian had said. “She’s an incredible lady, isn’t she?” Christian nodded. “Her strength amazes me.

The leech didn’t stay long. Only long enough to check his bandages and proclaim this the most miraculous recovery he’d ever witnessed. “I’ll let the others know,” Phantom said. Adara nodded as she returned to sit on the edge of Christian’s bed. He had yet to speak with words. But his loving gaze told her volumes. “Welcome back to the world of the living, Christian.” He swallowed, then coughed. “Easy,” she said, afraid he might tear the stitches in his chest. “I’m sorry, Adara,” he said, his voice raspy and strained. His words baffled her. “Sorry for what?” “That I disappointed you.” Her tears started anew. “You are never a disappointment to me, Christian. Never…unless you die on me. That would make me dreadfully disappointed, and then I should have to kill you for it.” The corners of his lips lifted a tiny bit.

So that is why you have haunted me all these years.” He nodded. “I wanted to make sure that you would live to take his coveted throne from him.” Phantom’s pale gaze bored into him. “My father was a good and decent man who loved me and my mother the way your parents loved you. I don’t want to see one man destroy that and get away with it.” “Neither do I.” Christian held his hand up before Phantom. “I hope that this means you will stay in the light, by my side, cousin. You have lived far too long in the darkness that he relegated you to.” “I make no promises to that. I personally like the feel of shadows on my face. But I will stand by your side, Christian. Always.” He took his hand and squeezed it. Christian pulled him into a quick hug, then released him. “Thank you, Phantom, for everything.” He inclined his head to him.

It wasn’t until he turned that she saw him, a huge, towering man close enough to hear everything they were saying. She gasped, and Beckett laughed. “Don’t scare her to death!” He pulled Candy over to the man in the shadows, smiling. “This is my security detail. Mouse, meet Candy Cox.” Mouse nodded. “Hey, Candy.” He stepped forward, and she noticed he was younger than she’d initially thought. His voice was high and squeaky. He made no comment about her name, and that made her like him. Beckett slapped Mouse on the arm but missed the look of pure devotion on the man’s face because he’d turned back to speak to her. “If you ever see this dude around, know I sent him. He’s safe.” Candy held out her hand formally, like her family had ingrained in her. Mouse took it and gave her a gentle smile. “Thanks, Mouse. Nice to meet you.” He nodded and stepped back, scanning the area.

So I’m curious, how far does the Pope think we should go in the direction of respecting and correcting the natural world and it’s wild inhabitants. Before I arrived the PIL media manager sent me a copy of Francis’s rather beautiful and cyclical ‘On Care For Our Common Home’. “Each creature has its own purpose” he writes “none is superfluous." He describes how Saint Francis would burst into song when he gazed at the sun, the moon or the smallest of animals. I read these passages to Father Carlo. He listens, nodding. “Saint Francis began a new relationship between nature and humanity. If you read his poems you find the expressions ‘Sister Water’, ‘Brother Sun’, ‘Sister Moon’.” “Would Saint Francis include brother rat?” I ask “Sister Boll Weevil, Uncle Blackbird who devours 2% of the North Dakota sunflower crop?”. Father Carlo says "Yes, Yes he would. He includes even death” he says.“Did saint Francis say anything specifically about rodents?”I hear myself say. “No, he didn’t. but the point is, brotherhood is not a simple relationship. with your brothers and sisters, normally you fight. You cannot think that there is an idillic way of being in a relationship with someone. Every relationship among humans and the earth is not only connotated with positive aspects. At the same time you also have negative aspects. The point is how do you deal with those aspects?” He’s good, this guy. “Yes” I say, “and how should we deal? It’s well and good to say these things, but how do we act in a way that serves both human and animal fairly? Let’s take the example of Canada Geese on gold courses. What is their crime? Befouling the turf, littering. For this should we be allowed to call someone in to round them up and gas them? Do they deserve to die because a few well-heeled humans want to hit a ball into hole and they need an obsessively tidy playing surface the size of the holy sea? Think of all the Sister Water that gets wasted watering the greens. Maybe it’s time to eliminate golf, not geese.” Father Carlos collects his thoughts. Among them, surely, ‘who let her in?’.

So I’m curious, how far does the Pope think we should go in the direction of respecting and correcting the natural world and it’s wild inhabitants. Before I arrived the PIL media manager sent me a copy of Francis’s rather beautiful and cyclical ‘On Care For Our Common Home’. “Each creature has its own purpose” he writes “none is superfluous." He describes how Saint Francis would burst into song when he gazed at the sun, the moon or the smallest of animals. I read these passages to Father Carlo. He listens, nodding. “Saint Francis began a new relationship between nature and humanity. If you read his poems you find the expressions ‘Sister Water’, ‘Brother Sun’, ‘Sister Moon’.” “Would Saint Francis include brother rat?” I ask “Sister Boll Weevil, Uncle Blackbird who devours 2% of the North Dakota sunflower crop?”. Father Carlo says "Yes, Yes he would. He includes even death” he says.“Did saint Francis say anything specifically about rodents?”I hear myself say. “No, he didn’t. but the point is, brotherhood is not a simple relationship. with your brothers and sisters, normally you fight. You cannot think that there is an idillic way of being in a relationship with someone. Every relationship among humans and the earth is not only connotated with positive aspects. At the same time you also have negative aspects. The point is how do you deal with those aspects?” He’s good, this guy. “Yes” I say, “and how should we deal? It’s well and good to say these things, but how do we act in a way that serves both human and animal fairly? Let’s take the example of Canada Geese on gold courses. What is their crime? Befouling the turf, littering. For this should we be allowed to call someone in to round them up and gas them? Do they deserve to die because a few well-heeled humans want to hit a ball into hole and they need an obsessively tidy playing surface the size of the holy sea? Think of all the Sister Water that gets wasted watering the greens. Maybe it’s time to eliminate gold, not geese.” Father Carlos collects his thoughts. Among them, surely, ‘who let her in?’.

Murhder. My name is Murhder.” She laughed. And then her mouth fell open before she could catch herself. “Wait, you’re serious.” When he nodded, she tried to compose herself. “Oh. Wow. Is—um, is that first or last?” “Last. My first name is Cold-Blooded.” As she did a double take, he smiled shyly. “I’m joking. It’s just Murhder.

As for the war…the Jedi do a lot of good for the Republic. Sometimes, ‘aggressive negotiations’ are just as important as bringing medical supplies. I know that’s confusing, but it’s true. Both can benefit the galaxy. I understand you. I’ve been where you are. So be patient and we’ll talk more later. All right?” Mill nodded, her features softening, Anakin empathizing with the simple need for someone to listen.

The great majority of those who came to see me belonged to the gray brotherhood of obsession, people imprisoned within a single idea, an idea not even their own but appropriated from previous generations; people like the inventors of the perpetuum mobile; weak in imagination, and trivial and absurd in their solutions. Yet even they burn with that consuming fire of objectivity that forces a man to renew efforts that are doomed to failure. How pitiful are these flawed geniuses, these titans of stunted spirit, crippled at birth by nature, who, as one of her grim jokes, bestowed upon their talentlessness a creative frenzy worthy of a Leonardo. Their lot in life is indifference or mockery, and all that you can do for them is listen patiently for an hour or two and nod at their monomania.

Rehv stared up into his mother’s eyes and never loved her more. He nodded once. “Look upon mine face and be assured, I so swear it. Bella and her issue shall never know. The past shall die with thee and me.” His mother’s shoulders eased under her dressing gown, and her shuddering sigh spoke loudly of her relief. “You are the son other mothers may only wish for.” “How can that possibly be true,” he said softly. “How can it not.

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.

Beckett smiled and took the microphone right out of the blonde’s hands, all Kanye West style. She couldn’t help but smile back. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he told her. “You’re doing great. Are we live?” She nodded, shocked. He turned to the camera. “Good. My people—and you motherfuckers know who you are—right now, in this moment, we are being attacked. This is not random violence, but a planned terror attack intended to bring this city to our fucking knees. Our police force and firefighters are heroes and are totally overwhelmed right now. So that leaves us. Me and you bastards. I’m asking you not to hide inside. Do not turn into pants-crapping cowards. I want you to stand with me. Use whatever skills you have at your disposal if you see shit going down that you can stop.” G licked Beckett. “I’m asking you to step up and help me. Right now, help our motherfucking town. Our goal is this and only this: Saving Poughkeepsie.

Well?” she demanded. “I no drive. Who takes me.” “Madam, would you not prefer to rest—” “Your body rest when dead. Who.” “We do have an hour,” Ehric hedged. As Assail glared at the other vampire, the little old lady hitched her purse up on her forearm and nodded. “So he will take me.” Assail met Sola’s grandmother’s gaze directly and dropped his tone a register just so that the line drawn would be respected. “I pay. Are we clear—you are not to spend a cent.” She opened her mouth as if to argue, but she was headstrong—not foolish. “Then I do the darning.” “Our clothes are in sufficient shape—” Ehric cleared his throat. “Actually, I have a couple of loose buttons. And the Velcro strip on his flak jacket is—” Assail looked over his shoulder and bared his fangs at the idiot—out of eyesight of Sola’s grandmother, of course.

So effective has their propaganda been that an American official was moved to describe the Brotherhood as “a loose network of secular groups.”27 This kind of ignorance in the West about Egypt presents the Brotherhood with a tremendous opportunity for media manipulation. Scratch the surface, however, and you find a detailed political platform published in 2006. The president cannot be a woman because the post’s religious and military duties “conflict with her nature, social and other humanitarian roles.” A board of Muslim clerics would oversee the government. The freedom of association guaranteed civil organizations in the West would, in an Islamist Egypt, also be conditional, once again on their adherence to the strictures of Islamic law. Egypt would have a shura (consultative assembly) system, whereby a body of compliant old men nod through whatever the leader, who is assured “veneration,” sees fit, while a Supreme Guide presides benevolently over the personal morality of the masses.28 In Saudi Arabia and Iran, that system exists now.

I’m going to stay here and see if he comes back,” Wrath said as the double doors opened and V strode in. “I want the rest of you out searching for him in the city, but before you go, first let’s get an update from our very own Katie Couric.” He nodded at Vishous. “Katie?” V’s glare was the ocular version of a fully extended middle finger, but he got on with it. -Wrath & V

You’re going to let me kiss you,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway, and he closed the distance between their mouths. His lips were soft and his kiss softer. And he pulled back too fast, in her opinion. Way too fast. “If you want more,” he said in a low, husky voice, “I want to give it to you.” -Rehv & Ehlena

As he and Beth hit the stairs, he called out to his brothers, “Thanks for having my back once again.” The group stopped and turned to face him. After a beat of silence, they formed a half circle around the foot of the grand staircase, each making a thick fist with his weapon hand. With a great whoop! of a war cry, they went down on their right knee and slammed their heavy knuckles into the mosaic floor. The sound was thunder and bass drums and bomb explosions, ricocheting outward, filling all the rooms of the mansion. Wrath stared at them, seeing their heads bent, their broad backs curled, their powerful arms planted. They had each gone to that meeting prepared to take a bullet for him, and that would ever be true. Behind Tohr’s smaller form, Lassiter, the fallen angel, stood with a straight spine, but he wasn’t cracking any jokes at this reaffirmation of allegiance. Instead, he was back to staring at the damn ceiling. Wrath glanced up at the mural of warriors silhouetted against a blue sky and could see nothing much of the pictures that he’d been told were there. Getting back with the program, he said in the Old Language, “No stronger allies, no greater friends, no better fighters of honor could a king behold than these assembled afore me, mine brothers, mine blood.” A rolling growl of ascent lifted as the warriors got to their feet again, and Wrath nodded to each one of them. He had no more words to offer as his throat had abruptly choked, but they didn’t seem to need anything else. They stared at him with respect and gratitude and purpose, and he accepted their enormous gifts with grave appreciation and resolve. This was the ages-old covenant between king and subjects, the pledges on both sides made with the heart and carried out by the sharp mind and the strong body. “God, I love you guys,” Beth said. There was a lot of deep laughter, and then Hollywood said, “You want us to stab the floor for you again? Fists are for kings, but the queen gets the daggers.” “I wouldn’t want you to take chips out of this beautiful floor. Thank you, though.” “Say the word and it’s nothing but rubble.” Beth laughed. “Be still, my heart.” The Brothers came over and kissed the Saturnine Ruby that rode on her finger, and as each paid his honor, she gave him a gentle stroke of the hair. Except for Zsadist, who she smiled tenderly at. “Excuse us, boys,” Wrath said. “Little quiet time, feel me?” There was a ripple of male approval, which Beth took in stride—and with a blush—and then it was time for some privacy.

V—” “You’re a good Irishman, right?” When Butch nodded, V said, “Irish, Irish … let me think. Yeah …” Vishous’s eyes sobered, and in a voice that cracked, he said, “May the road rise to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rains fall soft upon your fields. And … my dearest friend … until we meet again may the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand.

V—” “You’re a good Irishman, right?” When Butch nodded, V said, “Irish, Irish … let me think. Yeah …” Vishous’s eyes sobered, and in a voice that cracked, he said, “May the road rise to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rains fall soft upon your fields. And … my dearest friend … until we meet again may the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand.” In one powerful surge, V sprang backward off the ledge into thin air.

Abalone stared into the fizzing glass. “My father served yours.” “Yeah. Very well, I might add.” “Through your blood’s generosity, mine has prospered.” Abalone took another sip, his shaking hand making the ice tinkle. “May I say something about your father?” The King seemed to stiffen. “Yeah.” Abalone looked up to the sunglasses. “The night he and your mother were killed, a part of my father died, too. He was never the same thereafter. I can remember our house being in mourning for a full seven years, the mirrors draped in black cloth, the incense burning, the threshold marked with a black jamb.” Wrath rubbed his face. “They were good people, my parents.” Abalone put the soda aside and shifted off the armchair, getting on his knees before his King. “I will serve you just as my father did, down to the bone and marrow.” Abalone was dimly aware that others had filed into the room and were looking at him. He cared naught. History had come full circle . . . and he was prepared to carry forward with pride. Wrath nodded once. “I’m making you my chief cleric. Right here and now. Saxton,” he barked out. “What do I need to do?” A cultured voice answered smoothly, “You just did it all. I’ll draw up the paperwork.” The King smiled and put out his palm. “You’re the first member of my court. Boom!

My office is over here—” He stopped. Frowned. Looked about. Had to backtrack to the kitchen in order to find the various parties. Sola’s grandmother had her head in the Sub-Zero refrigerator, rather as if she were a gnome looking for a cool place in the summer. “Madam?” Assail inquired. She shut the door and moved on to the floor-to-ceiling cabinets. “There is nothing here. Nothing. What do you eat?” “Ah . . .” Assail found himself looking at the cousins for aid. “Usually we take our meals in town.” The scoffing sound certainly appeared like the old-lady equivalent of Fuck that. “I need the staples.” She pivoted on her little shiny shoes and put her hands on her hips. “Who is taking me to supermarket.” Not an inquiry. And as she stared up at the three of them, it appeared as though Ehric and his violent killer of a twin were as nonplussed as Assail was. The evening had been planned out to the minute—and a trip to the local Hannaford was not on the list. “You two are too thin,” she announced, flicking her hand in the direction of the twins. “You need to eat.” Assail cleared his throat. “Madam, you have been brought here for your safety.” He was not going to permit Benloise to up the stakes—and so he’d had to lock down potential collateral damage. “Not to be a cook.” “You have already refused the money. I no stay here for free. I earn my keep. That is the way it will be.” Assail exhaled long and slow. Now he knew where Sola got her independent streak. “Well?” she demanded. “I no drive. Who takes me.” “Madam, would you not prefer to rest—” “Your body rest when dead. Who.” “We do have an hour,” Ehric hedged. As Assail glared at the other vampire, the little old lady hitched her purse up on her forearm and nodded. “So he will take me.” Assail met Sola’s grandmother’s gaze directly and dropped his tone a register just so that the line drawn would be respected. “I pay. Are we clear—you are not to spend a cent.” She opened her mouth as if to argue, but she was headstrong—not foolish. “Then I do the darning.” “Our clothes are in sufficient shape—” Ehric cleared his throat. “Actually, I have a couple of loose buttons. And the Velcro strip on his flak jacket is—” Assail looked over his shoulder and bared his fangs at the idiot—out of eyesight of Sola’s grandmother, of course. Remarshaling his expression, he turned back around and— Knew he’d lost. The grandmother had one of those brows cocked, her dark eyes as steady as any foe’s he’d ever faced. Assail shook his head. “I cannot believe I’m negotiating with you.” “And you agree to terms.” “Madam—” “Then it is settled.” Assail threw up his hands. “Fine. You have forty-five minutes. That is all.” “We be back in thirty.” At that, she turned and headed for the door. In her diminutive wake, the three vampires played ocular Ping-Pong. “Go,” Assail gritted out. “Both of you.” The cousins stalked for the garage door—but they didn’t make it. Sola’s grandmother wheeled around and put her hands on her hips. “Where is your crucifix?” Assail shook himself. “I beg your pardon?” “Are you no Catholic?” My dear sweet woman, we are not human, he thought. “No, I fear not.” Laser-beam eyes locked on him. Ehric. Ehric’s brother. “We change this. It is God’s will.” And out she went, marching through the mudroom, ripping open the door, and disappearing into the garage. As that heavy steel barrier closed automatically, all Assail could do was blink.

The second he caught her scent, he stopped. “Leelan! Are you sure you should be up?” Turned out the smell of the food was one hell of a distraction: the spike of hunger she got in response enough to halt her in her tracks. “Ah . . . yeah, I feel okay. I’m hungry, actually.” As well as scared to death. While the staff continued on into the billiards room, filing in past some sheets of heavy plastic, Wrath came over to the base of the stairs. “Let’s get you into the kitchen.” Heading all the way down to join him, she let him take her arm, and leaned into his strength, taking a deep, easing breath. She’d probably just imagined everything up there. Really. Probably. Crap. “You know, I slept well,” she murmured as if to reassure herself. Which didn’t work. “Yeah?” “Mm-hm.” Together, they walked past the long dining table, and went through the flap door in the far corner. On the other side, iAm was once again at the stove, stirring a great pot. The Shadow turned—and immediately frowned as he looked at her. “What?” She put her hands to her stomach. “What are you—” “Nothing,” he said, banging his wooden spoon on the steel vat. “You two like chicken soup?” “Oh, yes, that sounds perfect.” Beth hopped up onto a stool. “And some bread maybe—” Fritz materialized at her elbow with a baguette and a plate with butter. “For you, madam.” She had to laugh. “How did you know?” As Wrath sat on the stool next to her, George parked it between them. “I had him on standby.” A steaming bowl of soup was slid in front of her by the Shadow. “Enjoy.” “Him, too?” she asked of iAm. “Yeah, the Shadow mighta been on it as well.” Picking up the spoon Fritz offered her, she dug in, aware the three males were staring at her—Wrath with such intensity, it was almost as if he’d gotten his sight back— “Mmmmm,” she said—and meant it. The soup was perfect, simple, not too heavy, and warm, warm, warm. Maybe it was just that she’d been through the needing and not eaten for how long? “So what’s going on in the billiards room,” she asked, to try to distract the males. “They’re cleaning up after me.” She winced. “Ah.” Wrath patted around for the baguette and broke off the hard end, putting it aside. The piece he then tore for her was soft in the middle, crunchy on the outside—and the butter he put on it was the unsalted, sweet kind. The combo was great with the soup. “Would you like something to drink?” Fritz asked. “Wine?” iAm said—before catching himself. “No, not wine. Milk. You need the calcium.” “Good idea, Shadow,” Wrath chimed in as he nodded at Fritz. “Make it whole—” “No, no, that will make me gag.” Annnnd didn’t that stop all of them in their tracks. “Which was true before all the, well, you know. But the skim does sound good.” And so it went, the three of them waiting on her: More soup? iAm hit her bowl again right away. More bread with butter? Husband was on it. More milk? The butler raced for the fridge.

She nearly laughed. Seeing a bunch of guys who looked like violent offenders sitting around a table set with silver and china was incongruous enough. But having them be so totally flabbergasted seemed downright absurd. “You want to introduce me?” she said, nodding at the group. Wrath put his arm around her shoulders, tucking her against him. “This is the Black Dagger Brotherhood. My fellow warriors. My brothers.