After a moment the king said, "So be it." Zsadist cursed. Butch whistled low. Rhage bit into a Tootsie Pop.

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.

Man, you cannot be real," the human said softly. "Why not?" "You just can't." She laughed a little. "Well, I am." He cleared his throat again. Offered her a lopsided grin. "Mind if I ask you to prove it?" "How?" "Can I touch your hair?

You are the male I might have been. You are the potential I had and lost. You are the honor and the strength and the kindness she needs. You'll take care of her. I want you to take care of her.

Written on the mirror, revealed by the steam, were the words, I love you, Jane.

Conflict is the microscope of a book. When it's trained on a character, you see what's underneath the narratives of physical description. You see whether someone is strong or weak, principled or apathetic, heroic or villainous." (J.R. on writing the BDB series)

Then how about we start with a shower," he said in the kind of deep voice that made her consider the value of cleanliness.