“Okay. Right. Horror meets romance meets erotica meets fantasy meets hip hop. Throw in some leather and some Miami Ink shit, stir with a baseball bat and a tire iron, sprinkle on some baby powder, and serve over a hot bed of Holy-Mary-mother-of-God-this-has-to-work-or-I'm-going-to-be-a-lawyer-for-the-rest-of-my-natural-life.No problem."(J.R. Ward on the elements of writing the Black Dagger Brotherhood)”

“He stopped when he heard Wellsie's voice coming out of the study. "… some kind of nightmare. I mean, Tohr, he was terrified… No, he fudged when I asked him what it was, and I didn't press. I think it's time he sees Havers. Yes… UAH-Hugh. He should meet Wrath first. Okay. I love you, myhellren . What? God, Tohr, I feel the same way. I don't know how we ever lived without him. He is such a blessing.”

“You're a good Irishman, right?" When Butch nodded, V said, "Irish, Irish… let me think. Yeah…" Vishous's eyes sobered, and in a voice that cracked, he said, "May the road rise to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rains fall soft upon your fields. And… my dearest friend… until we meet again may the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand.”

“You're some freaky shit, my brother. You really are”

“Rule number four for me as a writer? Plotlines are like sharks: They either keep moving or they die. ~J.R. Ward”

“And second, I don't think there's much of a market for your particular brand of psychology." "So not true.""Butch, you and I just beat the crap out of each other.""You started it. And actually, it would be perfect for Spike TV. UFC meets Oprah. God, I'm brilliant.""Keep telling yourself that.-Butch and V”

“So will you meet me?” “Yeah. Sure. Where.” “Montrag’s safe house in Connecticut. If you were the one who killed him, you know the address.”