Find the Author: Website, Blog, Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads
Series: The Saint Series #1
Genres: Erotica, MC
Amazon◆Barnes & Noble◆Kobo◆iBooks
Also by this author: Fire
She told me Heaven would knock on my door one day.
That I would be swept away from the hell I lived in.
She was right about one thing and so wrong about the other.
Heaven came in the form of an angel just like she said.
My life became hell.
She disappeared. Vanished.
I left. Went to war. Killed. All for her.
Every face was the man who took her.
Every dream filled with her.
For twelve years I existed in hell. Breathed in the fires from down below.
Until her, the woman on the beach outside of my home.
It couldn't be my Cora, my angel, my heaven on earth.
She was dead.
Jesse’s threats should make me want to shut my mouth; they don’t. I’ll make all the noise in the world to find out why I feel like I’m being dragged to my death. Oh God, please tell me they do not know!
Without warning, Cutter grips me by my hair, yanking me out of my spot in the corner. My backside is landing on the rough gravel with a solid thud. The sharp stones are penetrating through the flesh on my back. I scream out in agony as this man bores his fingers into my cheeks, digging into my skin enough to draw blood with his fingernails penetrating through my flesh. They’re going to kill me.
“You’re finally getting a chance to get out of here. If you fuck this up, I’ll kill him. Do you get me?” What? I ignore his comment about leaving here. That rolling in my stomach starts to turn, spinning out of control until it crashes into my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. I know exactly whom he’s referring to, and the thought makes me want him to stick his dick in my mouth so I can bite the repulsive little thing off. He’s talking about Riddick. Cutter nods my head for me using his greased, stained hands, his fingernails so dirty I gag at the sight. Those hands that make me cringe every time they touch me leave my face and go right back to my hair, where he pulls me behind him across the lot while I stifle my cries of pain. Not from the gravel clawing and embedding into my skin. From the words he spits out like it’s an everyday occurrence to threaten me with the only thing that can plunder my soul. This is the first time he’s physically hurt me, which makes me realize that whatever I’m here for is the worst kind of bad.
My life is not my own anymore. It belongs to my brother, and I’m a nut job because of it. I live inside my own head, talk to myself, pretend like I’m carrying on a conversation with the one person I want with me all the time. Riddick. I stare at walls for hours upon hours of the day and night, daydreaming of a better life on the ocean, where I can roam freely. Feel the wind swaying in with the tide, my hair blowing back away from my face as I breathe in the salty air. These conscious fantasies are a young woman’s fairy tale we all wish to come true. Riddick knows how much living on the ocean means to me. He is going to kill them for thinking they can put their slimy hands on me. This will be the end to the street fighting gang war my brother seems to think he’s the king of. People stay clear of Jesse Barrick for a reason. He’s maniacal crazy. Certifiably teetering on the edge of insanity. And whatever his reasons are for mistreating me have crazed him out to the point where I’m tumbling over the edge first.