The Chosen (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #15)

by J.R. Ward

Yeah, sure, before he’d settled down with his Blay, he’d liked fucking females and women well enough. But then again, his data screen for sexual partners had been set so low that even vacuum cleaners and the occasional tailpipe had been candidates. No sheep, though. #standards

Eventually, V cursed. “I wish I knew what would help you, my brother. I mean, if you need a reassuring hug…I can probably pay someone to give you one.”

It was the marking of a bonded male, a practice done so that any other male in her presence would be fully warned that if he approached her, he had best beware. She was another’s. Not as property. But as something far too precious for others to toy with.

When he glanced over at her, he did a double take—and dropped the toast on the tray. Which was a relief because, really, if she couldn’t win a competition with carbohydrates for his attention she was seriously in trouble.

Yet she was still alive and she was here. Looking at herself in the mirror. And for the first time in her life, she respected what she saw. Bowing to her reflection, she said softly, “Pleased to meet you.”

Throe brought up his palms—but as he nearly rubbed them together, he stopped himself. One did not want to turn oneself into a caricature of a villain. It was quite unseemly.

Rhage piped up. “Also, let’s face it. You’re the most reasonable one in this group.” “A full cock going off,” somebody chimed in. “Instead of a half cock like the rest of us.” “Quarter cock in Rhage’s case—” Hollywood wheeled around and glared at V. “Okay, fuck you—” “With what?”

As a slayer came at the Bastard from behind, Qhuinn went into action, leaping up and switching the knife out of his dominant hand, which was tied to that now really fucking bad shoulder. Fortunately, he was ambi-daggerous.