When you were the son of evil, there was little you couldn't do, own, or kill, and yet her mortal self was an elusive trophy he could touch, but not put on his shelf. This made her rare. This made her precious. This made him...love her.
J.R. WardG'on now.' he murmured with that Southern drawl. 'Lie on back and let me take care of you. I promise to go slow...real slow.' - Issac Rothe, Crave
J.R. WardWe donโt have to talk about Zsadist. Thatโs okay. Heโs the most interesting part of me.
J.R. WardHe tasted each one of them. The raw power and majesty of Wrath. The vast strength of Rhage. The burning, protective loyalty of Phury. The cold savagery of Zsadist. The sharp cunning of Vishous.
J.R. Ward