I did, and yet, the threat of him leaving seemed like a relief….
Hands groped and pulled—rough against my skin and digging into muscle and bone. Too many hands. The bits of memory faded as I tried to retreat from the onslaught. My back pressed into a hard surface beneath me, and my nostrils filled with the smell of musk and damp stale air.
I had no idea where I was, or how I’d gotten there.
I kicked and gasped, trying to get back to the surface where reality lurked. It shimmered in the distance, just out of reach, like the sun on the surface of the water during a dive.
A hand latched onto my hair and held my head back. My eyelids were finally freed from the sticky muck that held me in semi-consciousness, and I opened them to find myself staring up into unfamiliar eyes.
I only held his gaze for a few seconds—if that—but it seemed like it lasted for hours as my brain fought to categorize the details. Its useless attempt to understand what was going on.
The man clutching my hair had vivid green eyes, but they may as well have been black given the emotionless void they displayed. His hair was shaggy, brown with a mix of grey, the same colors that stood out in his unkempt stubble.
As if he needed any help looking rough.
He exhaled and his breath settled over my face, reeking of booze and cigarettes. The smell made me queasy, but I didn’t have time to dwell on that, as another set of hands tugged at my jeans.
My gaze traveled around the room, taking in the small crowd. At least half a dozen men surrounded the table where they had me spread out like a holiday feast. All dressed differently, from ragged tank tops to well-fitting dark button-down shirts, they all projected an air of unchecked danger. Necks marked with tattoos, hands covered in callouses and scars. Scruffy faces accented their sneers and smirks, as they stood above me staring down with eyes starved of humanity and full of lust.
Apparently, they didn’t expect me to put up a fight, because aside from the hand tangled in my hair, no one seemed concerned with keeping a tight grip on me. Probably because they outnumbered me, and I assumed they would have no problem beating the crap out of me if I struggled.
They’d downright enjoy it.
Unfortunately, I didn’t fully consider how that scenario would play out. I bucked and managed to knee the one pulling on my waistband in the face. He grunted, but I can’t imagine I inflicted as much pain as did his retaliatory blow to my ribs. I sucked in air and rolled, curling around the injury and gasping for each painful breath as the sickening throb exacerbated my confusion.
This couldn’t be happening. All I wanted to do was curl into a ball and protect my body, but their hands kept me splayed. Helpless. I jerked, pulled, and squirmed with every bit of strength I had, but a five and a half foot girl against a circle of rabid men was a hopeless battle.
And, with my defense, I had broken the dam on their violence. Seven pairs of hands turned on me, spreading me across the table. Bony hands squeezed my arms and legs, and adrenaline took over my judgment.
I screamed and a hand clamped down over my mouth, half-covering my nose as well. Every time someone moved the wrong way, his hand slid up, cutting off my air completely. I clamped my mouth closed, not letting another sound escape in hopes that he’d get bored of holding my mouth closed.
Where ever I had ended up, all I knew was that I didn’t want to die in some dank concrete room at the hand of a group of ruffians. I’d just started living my life. I made it out of the small town to find a place where I wasn’t constantly answering to someone about every decision I made. At sixteen, I had dyed my hair blue and our minister told me I was going to hell.
Well, I had found it, but I doubted this is what he’d had in mind.
Threats, insults, and random profanity echoed against the cinder block walls of the room and roared in my head propelling my struggle.
One of my shoes slipped off, giving me an opening. As that attacker attempted to readjust his grip, I straightened my leg quickly, hitting him square in the chest. He grunted and took a step back, then slammed my flailing leg against the table. The impact sent a bolt of pain up my body and for a brief moment I stilled, letting the pain radiate through me and then pushing it to the back of my awareness.
I sunk back into my mind, trying to distance myself from the pain. I couldn’t believe it was real. How quickly I had gone from planning to have dinner with my friends to being groped in some dank basement by a group of disgusting bastards.
They must have thought that my pause meant I was giving up, because the one holding my arm loosened his grip and I slipped free again, this time, planting a punch to the nose of another attacker. It took him a second to shake it off, but I was instantly restrained again by yet another. The man I’d punch snarled and ripped open my shirt, then pulled a knife from his pocket and flipped it open.
The room went quiet, and I froze, watching the silver tip of the blade move closer to my sternum.
Then, a single voice rose from the back of the room. “What the hell breed of trouble are you lot causing?”
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Bend, Don’t Break
Dark Romantic Suspense
Irrevocable, Book 2
Release date: November 17, 2014
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I thought I was done.
my End
I couldn’t take my eyes off her as the bullet tore through me, leaving me with nothing but the hope that I had done enough to save her. The darkness tried to engulf me—to brand me as its own and drag me to my fate.
my Darkness
Waking to see her tear-stained face above me was enough to make my heart stutter. I was alive and free from that place—but not from the toll it had taken on my mind and body.
my Strength
My story should have ended, but one woman kept standing in the way of that. The only way I could have her was to find a way to put the darkness to rest.
“BEND, DON’T BREAK was a dark, sensual, and at times, twisted and chaotic read that messed with my mind so good.”★★★★★ Shayna Renee’s Spicy Reads
“We don’t merely get a storythough, we get James’s thoughts and feelings on everything that happened.”★★★★ Lorie, Sinfully Sexy Book Reviews
“I just finished Bend, Don’t Break and what a way to finish this story! I just loved it…. ”★★★★★ Beggin (Shay) from Mommys a Book Whore
“Loved them in Irrevocable and fell even harder for them in Bend, Don’t Break.”★★★★★ Vicki
Chapter 1: Alive
“How many women did you have sex with while you were there?”
It was the third time Dr. Combs had asked me that question. And for the third time I wanted to avoid it.
I had just gotten out of that hell, and I still had the bullet hole in my chest to prove it, but it didn’t stop my boss from pushing the psychiatric evaluation. What he expected it to accomplish right now, I had no clue—I was tired, cranky, and I didn’t give a damn about getting my old job back.
Dr. Combs cleared her throat, and my jaw clenched. Some things were left unspoken—better suited to the imagination of nightmares and horror movies than to be discussed openly with any other living person.
I didn’t even want to admit the number of women to myself even though I could see every one of the girls in my mind.
Kat, the red-headed braggart who thought she owned every man who walked into the retreat.
Gabby, the indignant curly haired brunette.
Raini, a gorgeous but frail girl who was transferred in right after I went undercover. I had feared that one more night in Ross’ bed would kill her before her first week was up.
Alley, a blond sweetheart who belonged to Miles, my unconventional friend.
Silver, the girl who simultaneously ruined and saved me.
She was the only reason I was alive, and the only reason I had what was left of my soul—except she wasn’t real. Like my undercover alias, Kirk, she was forged from necessity and deter
mination. Now she was gone, and that missing piece was more painful than the hole the bullet had ripped through my side.
That crazy, obstinate woman wouldn’t back down. During the raid on the “sex retreat”, Ross had turned the gun on me, but she knocked him off balance and I ended up with a graze along my left side rather than a hole through my heart. The bullet splintered two ribs in the process, and left a long and bloody gash, but they’d managed to clean it up in surgery, and so far it was healing without complications.
Now, somewhere out there Rose was learning to live her own life again.
At least that’s what I hoped. The day after I was shot, my superiors had me transferred to another hospital and put under protective custody until they were sure I was “safe”.
I was fairly positive they were more concerned that any real threat to my life would come from me since there were very few people who knew of my undercover involvement in the operation.
The only company I was allowed was Dr. Combs, my new shrink. I didn’t want a shrink. I wanted the woman who saved me—the only person who stood a chance of bringing me any kind of peace.
The woman I could never have.
All I wanted to do was close my eyes and wait for the doctor to leave. But that would put me in a worse situation since she’d just report me for being difficult.
One fucking week.
I still had a hole in my fucking side for Christ sake.
“I want to talk to Trent—this no visitor thing is bull shit.”
“It’s for your own safety, and we can’t do anything until you cooperate.”
“Don’t preach to me about cooperating.” One of the machines next to me screeched and a stabbing pain radiated through my arm, but I’d felt much worse. “I gave up my life to do what was asked of me and I succeeded.”
“You need to relax,” she warned, reaching a hand toward me.
I shook it off as best as I could in my current condition. I didn’t fucking want to relax. I wanted what little I had of my life back.
And, most of all I wanted someone I had no right to want.
“James.”
She was just going to stand there and keep yammering.
“With all due respect, Doctor. Fuck off.”
“I’ll have to compile my preliminary evaluation before we can move forward. That’d go much smoother if you’d help me out.”
Help. I guess as far as not listening—even for my own supposed good—I could give Silver a run for her money. I waited in silence as a nurse adjusted and silenced the beeping machine. Quiet moments of solitude ticked away—my respite from being expected to answer questions, but it didn’t last.
“I don’t want to talk about the women,” I said when the door closed again. The steady stream of medication weighed down my body and softened my voice, so I didn’t sound as menacing as I intended. “I don’t much feel like talking about anything, but can we just skip the women and the fucking?”
“All of the women?” Dr. Combs asked, with her usual flat exaggerated calm. “Or is there someone in particular you don’t want to discuss?”
I figured pointing out that she was still talking about what I’d asked her not to—regardless of my answer—would be a waste of breath. “You know there is. How about you let me talk to her and I’ll answer any damn question you like?”
I didn’t even have to glance over to know she was scowling. They wouldn’t let me see Trent, my best friend and contact during the investigation, I knew they sure as hell wouldn’t let me see Silver… Rose. I didn’t even know what the hell I was supposed to call her. She’d made it perfectly clear the few times I’d pressed about her past or used her real name that I had no role in that life.
“She’s fine,” Dr. Combs assured me. “But I don’t think it would be in the best interest for either of you to see each other. You put yourself in a dangerous situation with her.”
Put myself? Last I checked I wasn’t the one to drag her into the Retreat. “I kept her alive and slightly less broken than she would have otherwise been.”
“The two of you adapted to a horrible situation, found comfort in each other—”
I didn’t want to hear it.
Stockholm Syndrome.
I wondered if the captor could get it, too. Was I even the captor? It seemed like I’d lost control of the situation long ago.
But I’d still been the one to beat her, rape her, bend her will.
Just like she’d bent mine.
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Ignition
Dark Romantic Suspense
The Redline Series, Book 1
Release date: March 16, 2015
Get it FREE now!
When you’re this close to the redline, there’s no room for error—
—or second chances.
A sought after car thief for hire, Colt will do anything for a high—anything for the deafening rush of blood and chemicals that tames the ongoing anarchy in his mind. Fast cars, pain, alcohol, women… his vices come in many flavors, but one woman tempts him closer to the line he can never come back from. She’ll be his hardest theft yet—an action that will set the looming conflict with his brother on a new and violent path.
Aubrey has two choices. The first she knows too well: the alluring businessman who entwined her in his deceptive plots. The second is a stranger. He makes his promises not with a silver tongue but with harsh, blunt observations that Aubrey can't ignore. Either way, she's caught between two brothers each seeking the other's downfall—and neither has a problem taking her down in the process.
“This is an edge of the seat kinda read.”★★★★★ Philomena, Cheekypee Reads
“Fanfuckingtastic read…”★★★★★ ~ Cariad ~ Sizzling Pages Romance Reviews
”It was like a rollercoaster: quick, sharp turns, lots of flips and it ended too soon! So sit down, power up and be prepared to have some naughty fun!!”★★★★★ Eye Candy Bookstore
“WOW! This is a dark, erotic ride into the underworld of drugs, sex, exploitation and crime. I love it!”★★★★★ Reading Keeps Me Sane
Prologue: Colt
I’m not the first to want what I can’t have, but my problem runs irreparably darker than that. My dark lust can’t be sated by normal means, or even slightly less-than-normal means. Role playing and dominant games with their bullshit negotiations and imposed limits don’t do it for me.
I’m not interested in love… the endless complications of a relationship. I don’t even want respect or mutual understanding.
I want pain because pain is the only thing real—the only thing we control and share. The only result of every relationship—every life.
Pain is inevitable, and I’d rather jump to the chase and wrestle it by its thorny horns than wait for it to sneak up on me.
Chapter 1: Aubrey
I wrung my hands—they were clammy and cold despite the oppressing heat backstage. The music thumped through my body, embedding its rhythm deep into my bone marrow, until it felt like every cell thrummed and vibrated under the invisible assault. The resulting tension was the only thing keeping me upright.
Devlin sauntered up next to me, freshly pressed in his expensive black suit. His naturally tanned skin looked even darker in the dim lighting, while his dark brown eyes bore through me as he handed me a mini-bottle of water. I took it with both shaking hands—afraid that with the state of my nerves I might drop it.
Everyone talks about the consequences of making stupid decisions—this wasn’t one anyone had ever mentioned to me.
“You’re up in fifteen,” he said impassively, his warm hand stroking my jaw as I took a long swig of water. To all outward appearances, he was a walking oxymoron—hot and cold rolled into one. His touches perceived as caring, his voice as if he couldn’t give two fucks. But there was no dualism about him. His intentions were refined and single-minded—every action was carefully concocted.
I ignored his touch as much as possible, but I’d l
earned long ago that trying to avoid his passes was futile.
“Try to look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he said.
Beyond his shoulder, I watched the other girls, gathered along the wall on the opposite side of the stage entrance. A clique that I didn’t belong in and never wanted to. I was here for one thing, and then I was gone—utterly convinced that I was not and would not ever be anything like them. Their robes hung open revealing their tiny and glittery stage costumes underneath. Most of them had already performed and now they giggled—usually glancing sideways at me and making crinkled expressions that looked less than amused at my presence.
As if I wanted to be here dressed in this gaudy costume that pinched my boobs, poked at my ribs, and chafed everywhere it touched only to barely qualify as decent. I expected a boob to pop out before I even made it half way across the stage, and I wouldn’t be surprised at all if at least one nipple made a premature appearance—not that anyone would complain. To make matters worse, the whole ensemble was brought to a painful close by the tall stilettos that pinched my feet and left me as wobbly as a drunken teenager.
I was still wearing far more than I would be when I came back off stage after my eight-minute routine. That thought did little to calm my nerves. I wanted to be done with it all, and yet I dreaded the end more than anything. I may have a body appropriate for the stage—as Devlin assured me in his sugary sweet tone—but did I have the confidence, poise, or coordination? Not at all.
This would be my first night on stage, but it wasn’t my first night waiting in the wings. The atmosphere was different, comparatively calm and quiet—as if all attention was focused on me, waiting for me to screw up, to break an ankle, or fall on my face. Devlin had given me a week to train with one of the more experienced girls. She refused to refer to me by anything except Sway because I could barely stay upright in the heels they gave me to practice in.
Insurmountable (Serpentine #1) Page 9
