The warrior (Zsadist) rolled his black eyes. "Come on, man. What does it matter to me? You, Tohr. Britney Spears.

When he frowned again, she was fairly sure that the nomenclature did not please him, and she found herself wishing she had been birthed to other syllables.

Moments later a huge male with a cropped mohawk came out. Rehvenge was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit and had a black cane in his right hand. As he came slowly over to the Brotherhood's table, his patrons parted before him, partly out of respect for his size, partly out of fear from his reputation. Everyone knew who he was and what he was capable of: Rehv was the kind of drug lord who took a personal interest in his livelihood. You crossed him and you turned up diced like something off the Food Channel.

With the supplies gathered, he went over to the stainless-steel sink and pressed the foot pedal to get the water running. While he washed his hands, he said quietly, "If I could, I would." "Excuse me?" Qhuinn pumped some suds into his palms and scrubbed all the way up his forearms. Which was overkill, but if Blay wanted him superclean, then that was what he was going to be. "If I could love a guy like that, it would be you.

What brings you onto my property?" Rhev said, cradling his mug with both hands trying to absorb its warmth. Got a problem" I can't fix your personality, sorry

[Rhage and Manny] “You’re doing great,” he murmured as he noticed those white knuckled fists. “Don’t worry about me.” “Right, right…your brothers.” Manny paused for a split second. “You’re all right, you know that.” “F*ck…that…” The fighter smiled, flashing fangs. “I’m…perfect.

And love … love was worth dying for. Worth living for, too.