Carla

“Butch repositioned the Sox cap, and as his wrist passed by his nose, he got another whiff of himself. "Ah, V. . . listen, there is something a little weird going down on me."

"What?"

"I smell like men's cologne."

"Good for you. Females dig that kind of thing."

"Vishous, I smell like Obsession for Men, only I'm not WEARING any, you feel me?"

There was silence on the line. Then, "Humans don't bond."

"Oh, really. You want to tell that to my central nervous system and my sweat glands? They'd appreciate the news flash, I'm sure.”
― J.R. Ward, Lover Revealed

“There aren't any syringes." Red Sox came over and held a sterile pack out. When she tried to take it from him, he kept a grip on the thing. "I know you'll use this wisely."
"Wisely?" She snapped the syringe out of his hand. "No, I'm going to poke him in the eye with it. Because that's what they trained me to do in medical school.”
― J.R. Ward, Lover Unbound

“The staircase that was revealed was lit with a soft red glow.
I feel like I'm walking down into a porn movie," V muttered as they took the steps with care.
Wouldn't that require more black candles for you," Zsadist cracked.
At the bottom of the landing, they looked left and right down a corridor carved out of stone, seeing row after row of...black candles with ruby color flames.
I take that back," Z said, eyeing the display.
We start hearing chick-a-wow-wow shit," V cut in, "can I start calling you Z-packed?"
Not if you want to keep breathing.”
― J.R. Ward, Lover Avenged

“You're such a pain in the ass. (Butch)
Said the SIG to the Glock. (V)”
― J.R. Ward, Lover Revealed