Clarissa Wild's Blog: chapter reveal

Erotic Romance writer Clarissa Wild shares her titillating stories and thoughts!

Showing posts with label chapter reveal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chapter reveal. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

First Chapter & Prologue Reveal - Killer by Clarissa Wild & Giveaway!



Killer
Prequel to Stalker


UNEDITED EXCERPT - Subject to change
COPYRIGHT © CLARISSA WILD. All Rights reserved.


PROLOGUE


Vanessa


Never in my life did I think I would be the prime suspect in my husband’s murder. But looking back at the choices I made, it’s not so strange that people think I’m a killer.
I’m not as innocent as I portray myself. Looks can be deceiving.
However, I won’t go down for this. Not when I don’t deserve it.
I should’ve known it would end up this way. That man … Phoenix Sullivan … The moment I saw that deadly gaze in his eyes, the dark way he looked at me, I knew I was in trouble.
Big trouble.
And something tells me there’s more where that came from.
This game of catch won’t be ending any time soon.


Phoenix


Look at her, in her fancy white dress, with her fake blonde curls, and that sweet, deliciously fake smile. Don’t you just want to fuck that pretentious smile off her face? I do. And I will.
She has no idea what’s coming for her. Or her husband.
You see, I’m not a nice person. When I have my eyes set on something, I do it. In this case, it’s killing the man she’s married to. She probably won’t like it, but that’s not my problem. She’s not my target … and she’d better not turn herself into one.
I’m here with a purpose, and nothing stands between me and my goal. Not even a pretty girl with an ass worth fucking. Nobody stands in my way, and if they do, they die.
Too bad for her I’m like a fucking canon, and when I shoot, shrapnel flies everywhere. If she gets caught in the fire, that’s on her.
When I want something, I’m going to get it, no matter the price. Whether it’s killing someone, or fucking her.
She wants justice, I’ll give her justice … my justice.
I bet she isn’t willing to pay the price.
Too bad for her I always win.



CHAPTER 1


Phoenix


Tonight’s the perfect night to kill.
I can feel it in my veins; that undeniable urge flowing through me on nights like these. Exciting like drugs; the murderous kind.
Clouds prevent the moonlight from bursting through and cover the land in perpetual darkness. There are plenty of lanterns lighting the road ahead, but not the alley I’m headed for. In front of me is a small puddle of water, so I walk past the side to avoid my new leather shoes from getting wet. You see, I just bought these, and I prefer to keep them clean for as long as possible. They will probably lose their shine after tonight’s killings.
Oh well, it’s not like I’ll need these shoes for anything other than entering the party ahead and pretending like I belong. Gotta be fancy enough for the big crowd, because of course, someone in jeans couldn’t be nearly important enough as someone in a suit.
Bunch of fake fuckers. If I could, I’d burn the whole fucking place to the ground with them in it, but I’d rather not end up in jail if I can avoid it. Killing has to be done as inconspicuous as possible, so nobody will know it was me until I’ve already disappeared from sight.
It’s my thing, it’s what I do, or rather what I’ve become. After all these years, I don’t even remember what it was like to not be a murderer. Not that I want to remember; hell, I prefer this life over any other, especially the lives of those people in that party who are about to witness death.
I’ve got to admit, it is a rush. I just love killing, especially when it’s for the right reasons. Those reasons are obviously always to benefit me. Why the fuck else would I murder people if not for my own pleasure? Well, and for the money that sustains me, of course.
What can I say? I’m the scum of the earth, the disgusting vile that creeps in the corners to jump you at night … and I don’t regret being like this for even a second.
I turn into the alley and come face to face with a bulking, barely-fitting-in-his-suit, bodyguard. I cock my head as he frowns at me, probably wondering what I’m doing here.
“Excuse me, you can’t come here,” he says as I walk closer.
I smile. “Why not? This is where the party is.”
He folds his arms, making himself seem larger, but all it does to me is make it more laughable. “This is the rear entrance. If you want access, you have to take the front door. If you have a ticket, that is …”
He doesn’t believe me? Even in my fucking fancy suit? Well, fuck him. I wanted to spare his life, but questioning my slickness isn’t something one can get away with on my watch.
“Oh, I have a ticket, all right,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “How dare you talk to a guest like that.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” he says, “But I’m not allowed to let anyone pass through this door. You will have to go to the front entrance where they can check your ticket. Sorry.”
Of course they all think I’m not a guest, because let’s face it … I look like a guy you wouldn’t want your daughter to talk to, even if it was in broad daylight in your own fucking home. With my piercings, black hair, and merciless attitude, I usually scare people to death. I have the kind of face you’d see in your nightmares … except, when you see me in real life, you’re really dead.
Like this guy.
“Yeah, yeah … so let me get this straight …” I shuffle around, looking at the floor, distracting him. “You’re basically telling me I can’t walk here, even though this is a public alley, just because this isn’t the ‘correct’ entrance to the party I’m supposed to be attending?”
“I’m only doing my job.”
I look up at him. “So am I.”
In a fraction of a second I’ve grabbed his coat and flip it over his head. I twist around, to his back, and wrap it around his neck. His screams are quickly muffled by the fabric stuffed in his mouth, choking him as I drag him back into the corners of the alley. He claws at the coat, desperate to free himself before time runs out. Stumbling backwards, we fall to the ground, and I wrap my legs around his chest to prevent him from moving. His body fights for survival, his legs thrashing, his hands punching in the air. It’s no use. I will win this fight, as I always do. He’s losing his energy fast, and his muscles are losing their strength. It won’t be long now. With his fingers growing whiter every second, all the blood is rushing to his face, in a last attempt to breath. But it’s already too late; there is no oxygen left and his lungs are shutting down.
His legs stop moving and his hands drop to the floor, the last groan slipping off his tongue like a ghost leaving his body.
Death has made his entry.
It’s done.
I unwrap the coat from his face and crawl out from underneath him. Then I drag his body to the dumpster in the back and put him on the side facing the brick wall. I take his coat off his dead body and swing it around until it’s long and thin, like a rope. Then I tie it around a handle of the dumpster and tightly wrap the other end around his neck. I make sure his body is positioned right and the tension on the coat is just right, so that when the paramedics or police find him they’ll think exactly what I want them to think; that this was a mindless suicide with no further need to investigate.
Hopefully, they won’t find him before morning, when I’m long gone.
Before I leave I fish in his pockets and take out a rather convenient card that will grant me access to the backdoor of the building. Smiling at him, I say, “Sorry, dude. Business is business. No hard feelings.”


***


Vanessa


One look, a simple glance, can change everything.
A nod, narrowing eyes, or a twitch of the lips is all it takes to convey a message that destroys everything.
I should’ve trusted my instincts, should’ve listened to the warning signs. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, the dread rippling through my veins, telling me this wasn’t right.
Instead, I give my husband the glass, my smile, and a soft pet on the shoulder.
“Here you go, darling,” I say, giving him a peck on the cheeks.
When I turn to look back at the man I exchanged looks with, he’s gone.
My husband laughs and takes the glass from my hand, pulling me from my thoughts. “Vanessa, let me introduce you to Cordelia.”
The woman next to him holds out her hand, her smile full of fakery as she says, “Cordelia, I’m a fan of your husband’s work.”
“Vanessa, lovely to meet you. My husband seems to have many fans at this party.” I laugh and smile like the good wife, pretending not to have noticed the wink she gave him. Her tightly squeezed dress reminds me of my husband’s hand, which was on her ass just seconds ago. I wonder if the squeeze was good enough, or if he’ll find more asses to pat later.
In one go, I chug back my drink.
Everybody looks at me like I’ve gone insane, but I ignore them. I place my glass down on a tray held by a waiter passing by and return with a smile. “So, Cordelia, I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re one of the actresses in my husband’s movies if I’m not mistaken.”
“Yes, our latest movie will be airing in January this year, so I’m quite excited about that.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Did you work closely with her?” I ask my husband. “Since you two seem to know each other so well.”
“Ah, yes, well …” My husband chokes on his wine.
“Phillip showed me all around the set. He’s quite a charm,” she says, giggling. “He knows so much about this business, I swear, I feel like a rookie again when I’m around him.”
“Hmm … I can imagine,” I say, smiling again. First name basis already. That went quickly.
Phillip coughs a couple more times, his wine glass shaking so much that it spills and droplets fall to the ground.
“Oh dear, are you all right, Phillip?” Cordelia asks, placing her hand on her chest.
He coughs some more, this time bending over, punching his own chest. I grab the glass from his hand and put it down. “Phillip? Talk to me,” I say.
“I’m … fine,” he mutters, but I can clearly tell he’s not. He’s coughing too much, more than I’ve ever seen him do, and that’s noteworthy, as he’s a fervent smoker.
“Do you need me to help you?” I ask.
“No … no, no, I just need some air.”
I place my hand on his back. “Let’s go outside then.”
“I think it’s better if you took him home,” Cordelia says, swallowing away the lump in her throat. “He seems … ill.”
“Thank you for your concern,” I say. Always so involved. “We’ll be fine.”
“No, she’s right.” Phillip places a hand on mine. “Let’s go home. Seems this wine was a little too much for my body to handle. I’ve had enough drinks for one night.” He laughs, but it’s more pathetic than anything. “Besides, I’ve shown my face and talked to some people. The party will probably go on fine without us.”
“All right, if you’re sure. See you later, Cordelia,” I say, waving back at her while I take my husband outside.
The doors are opened for us as I escort him outside. My husband dismisses all the help the waiters want to give him, much to my dismay. I help him down the stone staircase, which is quite a feat. The more we walk, the more he leans on me, and it’s becoming harder and harder to help him walk. Soon, I’m the one carrying most of his weight.
“What’s happening to you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says, the coughs still increasing in volume. “Just had a little too much, that’s all.” He stumbles across the pavement, almost pulling me down with him. I can barely keep us both on two feet.
“Phillip, this isn’t right, you can’t even walk,” I say, walking him all the way to our car.
“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just a little … tipsy, that’s all.” He fumbles in his pockets, leaning against the car as he takes it out and I open the door to step in.
“No, no, I’m driving,” he says.
“What? No way, you can’t. You’re too intoxicated.”
He frowns. “No, I’m not. Now, step aside and let me drive.”
I make a face. “Must you always be so damn stubborn? Just let me drive. I can bring us home safely.”
“There’s nothing wrong, now move aside, woman.” He shoves me so hard that I have to hold onto the door to stay steady.
Before I have time to protest, he sits down behind the wheel and slams the door shut.
My hands turn into fists as I storm to the other side of the car and mouth some foul words. This man … ugh, the amount of crap I have to put up with is driving me insane.
I open the door and sit my ass down, slamming the door shut behind me. The car starts and he drives off with a hiccup, hitting a stone ridge to the side of the road.
“Watch it!” I say.
“Oh, c’mon,” he says, driving out of the parking lot. “Can you just give me a break?”
“No, this is dangerous, and you know it.”
“I said I’m fine, what more do you want from me, huh?” He starts driving faster.
“Oh, not this again,” I sigh.
“Keep quiet then and let me do my job.”
“Your job is driving?” I jest, as we ride through the city.
He throws me a glance. “Can you just not make it worse? Like, for one fucking second in my life, can you just not annoy the ever-loving shit out of me?”
The car is going faster and faster, even when a traffic light is eminent.
“Philip, stop.”
“No, you stop.”
“No, I mean, the lights!” I yell.
Too late, he’s already rushing straight through while it was red. I put my hands in front of my eyes so I won’t see the impending disaster. My heart is racing, my breathing is ragged, and when I open my eyes again nothing has happened. Phillip is still sitting next to me, his breathing loud and his veins bulging through his skin, his face red with rage.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I scream.
“Nothing, you’re what’s wrong with me!” he yells back.
“You just drove straight through a red light. Are you insane?”
“If I am, it’s your fucking fault for always getting on my back,” he hisses.
“And this is payback? Scaring me? How dare you,” I say. “Stop this car.”
“No.”
We’re nearing the highway, and I don’t want this to get worse. I need to get out. “Phillip, stop this car. Right. Now.”
“No,” he repeats, fuming.
“Let me out!” I scream.
“We’re not doing this. Not now,” he says, grinding his teeth.
I look around, but all I see are roads and other cars, no grass in sight to even remotely think of jumping out, even though that’s a ridiculous idea. But when you’re afraid, stupid things go through your head. I hate danger.
Shit, we’re already driving on the highway. It’s too late.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Get off the highway!”
“I’m getting us home. Now will you shut up already?” he yells. “You’re driving me crazy with your constant whining.”
The yelling causes him to cough so hard, the car is swaying.
“Be careful,” I say, sweating like crazy.
“Shut up! Just shut up, all right? If you can shut your mouth for like ten minutes, we’ll get home safely, and I’ll be rid of this nasty cough,” he growls, still coughing.
“Fine,” I say, and I turn my head to look out the window.
The lights pass by quicker with every mile we drive, cars shooting by as if they were never even there. I try to focus on my breathing, trying to calm myself down so I can think of a rational solution to this problem. The problem being his cough and incredibly bad temper. I try to ignore the fact that the car is still speeding up and that his cough still has not subsided, even though he said it would when we’d stop talking. After a few minutes, the swaying becomes so bad, I turn my head to see if I can help.
What I see makes my heart stop.
Phillip’s eyes open and close.
His body is limp.
His hands aren’t on the steering wheel.
And the car has already veered from one lane into the other.
“No!” I squeal, grasping the wheel with all I have, trying to straighten it in time.
But the car is already too skewed, and when I turn, it starts to spin.
The backside slips to the left, crashing into the guardrail. Another car hits ours so hard it catapults us into the air.
At this moment in time, my body is bumping into my seat and into the window, my head exploding in pain. My vision becomes blurry as the car cartwheels across the road. I swing from left to right, up and down, as the belt proves to be of little use to protect me. My hands clamp around my face in an attempt to protect myself as the car flips again and again.
When the car comes to a stop, I’m hanging from the top, gravity pulling on my body. My lungs are about to burst from the air locked inside. For a moment, my mind leaves my body, and I fade in and out of consciousness. Blood trickles down my nose, keeping me awake. My hands feel numb and my feet are swollen, but somewhere inside me, I find the courage to move.
I lift the belt and unbuckle myself. My body drops to the hard roof, which is now the floor, crushing my ribs. I howl in pain, but stop when I can’t breathe. I blink to clear my view and look around. Phillip hangs next to me, his body lifeless and limp. And then I notice the smoke.
“Phillip,” I whisper. “Phillip, wake up.” My throat burns and my muscles ache as I attempt to free him. However, a flicker of fire is enough to make me stop in my tracks. Flames are eating up the car, and by the time I slide out of the car, they have swallowed the metal.
I crawl further away, hoping to get on my feet and run to Phillip’s side so I can drag him out myself, but when I try to stand my legs won’t budge. Cars around us stop as I fight to get away from the car. The fuel entering my nostrils is the adrenaline that pushes me to keep going.
When I turn my head to look at the car, flames have engulfed it.
My ears are ringing, my eyes tearing up from the pain.
My husband is in there, and despite my efforts, I can’t make it back in time.
He’s burning alive.
“No!” I yell, but then cough because I can’t bear the pain. It’s so hot, and everything hurts.
As I look around, someone comes toward me. One of the people from the cars that stopped. My vision is getting blurry again, and my strength is fading fast. Even though I try to lift my arms, they don’t listen to me, and I lie lifelessly on the cold asphalt, waiting for the ordeal to end.
Feet come closer until they stop in front of me. I pour my last ounce of strength into gazing up into the eyes of the one who will pull me out of here.
He’s none other than the man I saw at the party.
But his eyes show no mercy.


Killer -- Coming May 26th, 2015 (in the Summer Fire Boxed Set)
Separate publication: June, 2015.

Preorder now:

Amazon|Barnes&Noble|iBooks|Kobo



About the author

Clarissa Wild is the USA Today Bestselling author of FIERCE, a college romance series, but she's best known for the dark Romance novel Mr. X. She is also a writer of erotic romance such as the Blissful Series, The Billionaire's Bet series, the Doing It Series and the Enflamed Series. She is an avid reader and writer of sexy stories about hot men and feisty women. Her other loves include her furry cat friend and learning about different cultures. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, reading tons of books and cooking her favorite meals.

Connect with me


Giveaway!

Sign up for a release day alert & enter to win a copy of Killer on the release day of the Summer Fire Boxed Set!
Would you like to help spread the news about KILLER on release day? Subscribe for a ONE TIME ONLY email and be entered to win prizes!
Everyone that subscribes will be entered to win a e-copy of KILLER. (There will be 3 winners in total). Winners of the e-copies will be announced in the release day email. 
Those that share KILLER on release day will be entered to win up to $10 in ebooks of choice from amazon.
No other emails will be sent through this mailing list. Just ONE email ONE time.

Click here to sign up!
Read More

Saturday, February 21, 2015

Chapter Reveal Scorch (Book 3, Delirious) by Clarissa Wild - Dark Erotic Romance Trilogy with alpha billionaire!



Title: SCORCH (#3, Delirious)
Author: Clarissa Wild
Publication Date: March 3rd, 2015
Genre: Dark Romance




Synopsis
Sweet revenge keeps her alive … and drives her to kill.

I am the forgotten one, the girl who was left for dead.
In this mental hospital I call prison I plot my revenge.
I remember everything.
Their faces. Their touch. Even their smell.
What they did to me was beyond cruel. I’m going to return the favor.
In here I survive by using someone just as they used me. One of them wants to claim me as his own. A man without mercy, without a conscience, craving the wickedness inside me. But I won’t be a puppet for his desires. I will play his strings like a puppeteer and use him to escape.
And when I do … I will kill them all.



This is Ashley's story and the final book in the Delirious Series. This is a full-length novel. These books should be read in order.

WARNING: This book contains very disturbing situations, strong language, dubious consent, and graphic violence. 


Preorder SCORCH:





Prologue

Accompanying song: "I'm Dying" by VAST

Ashley

June 20th, 2013.

Flames engulf me.
They lick my skin, fill me to the brink with fear.
I’m trapped with no way out.
My eyes can only see darkness, as black as my body will become if I stay here a second longer. Smoke clouds my vision, the rooms and hallways turn into a ghostly scene. Screams come from all directions—whines and loud bangs following suit.
I don’t know where I’m going, but anywhere is better than here. I have to escape this sea of flames.
A torrent of fire scorches the walls, blazing through the doors. I jump over fallen rubble and molten wood, running through any visible gaps I can find. It’s here; it has to be here. The door to freedom … it’s supposed to be here.
Fire follows me everywhere, like a trail set to destroy me, but I won’t let it burn me. I chose this path. I was the one who set this chain of events in motion, and now I must find a way out of this hellhole before it swallows me whole.
Either this fire or this facility will be my undoing, and I’d rather be turned into a crisp than spend one more second in this place. Everything I did was for my own freedom, and I won’t let anything ruin it, not even a fucking burning building.
Right now, I don’t care about anyone else but me. I did it all for me. That’s right; I chose to follow my own instincts so I could benefit from them. I’m a selfish motherfucker, but I don’t regret a thing.
For once, I deserve a little peace.
Forever do I deserve justice.
No one deserves to get out of this place more than me.
But this fire is catching up with me quickly, and I don’t know if I can outrun it.
My lungs burn as I suck in the last viable breath, trying to stop coughing. The smoke is killing me, but I won’t give up. I won’t stop running, won’t stop fighting, won’t stop screaming until I gave it my all and then some. I won’t go down easily.
I won’t. I fucking won’t!
Adrenaline fuels my body as I rush past falling debris, crisscrossing through the hallway until a door comes into sight. Hope zings through my veins, giving me a rush as I make a sprint toward freedom. I jump over fire and lunge at the door, pulling it open as I go. There’s another door just up ahead. The exit sign is the only light that shines down upon me as I close the door behind me and try to open it.
Locked.
I jerk it a couple of times, but it won’t budge.
Panic rolls through me, making all the hairs on my body stand u, as I jerk the door again and again.
“C’mon,” I say. “C’mon, you worthless piece of shit!”
I punch the door, but it’s no use. Nothing I do works.
I cry out as I pull on the door as hard as I can and ram my feet into the wood in an effort to break free. Fire has consumed the hallway behind me, and I can smell the smoke rising up from the hole underneath the door. It won’t be long until it enters this room and when it does, I have to be out.
“Why won’t you fucking open?” I scream at the door.
If this damned door would open, I would be out of here by now, but it seems to be made of pure cement or something. I can feel the heat of the fire penetrating the walls, creeping in from underneath the door behind me. As I look over my shoulder, the small gap is lit like the sun.
Oh God, it’s so close, I can almost feel it.
There’s no escape now. I can’t turn around and find a different exit. I’m trapped and the fire has come for me. And this fucking door won’t open, no matter what I do.
Salty tears enter my mouth as I yell and kick the door in a futile move to free myself. Nothing I do helps. Nothing.
After a while, I sink to the hard floor, burying my face in my hands.
I’m done for.
This is it; this is the end.
I was the only one who could save me, who could get me out of here. This was my last chance, and I blew it.
What ifs float through my head. What if I hadn’t listened to him? What if I didn’t let him use me for his own pleasure? What would have happened if I didn’t let him into my heart? Would I have made the same choices?
No, but I doubt I would’ve come as far as I have now.
Which terrifies me even more. All the choices I made or could have made would’ve led to only two outcomes. Either I would remain here or in another facility as their sex puppet or I’d flee and probably die.
I guess I got what I wanted, after all. In the end, I realize it’s what I asked for. I should’ve listened when he said there was no escaping this place … and him.
The only way out is death itself.
I should accept my fate with the last shred of dignity I have left, but I can’t fight this dread creeping into my soul. After all that planning, all that work, all that lying, cheating, stealing, and betraying, I ended up alone and trapped in a room as small as a fucking closet. I exchanged my body for a little bit of hope, and what I got was a miserable end to my suffering.
What a horrible way to die.


Chapter 1

Accompanying song: "Better With You" by Of Verona

Ashley

February 12th, 2013.

Gray.
Everything is gray.
Not black. Not white. Not clear or unclear. Not good or bad. Just gray.
I’m gray. I’m not angry or sad. Not happy or depressed.
I’m in the middle, where there are no decisions and no emotions.
Nothing. I’m nothing. Feeling nothing, worth nothing, doing nothing, staring into nothingness. And I don’t care. Not even a little bit.
My legs are cramped, but the pain soothes me. I wobble up and down … up and down … forward and backwards. My nails dig into my skin as I hold my knees closed, staring at the wall in front of me. I watch the cracks, feeling like they’re changing in shape. I know each and every one of them from memory, but somehow this one particular crack seems unfamiliar, and it makes me curious.
Tempted, I lean forward and place my index finger on the wall. The nakedness of the structure creates goosebumps on my skin as I touch something for the first time in hours. I love the texture, how different it feels with each stroke. Each bump and each indent are like a map to me; I’ve studied them all. I know exactly where every nook and cranny is.
Except this one. It’s not familiar to me at all, which holds my attention like nothing else.
Was this crack always here? I wonder, and yet that’s not possible because I know this cell better than the back of my own hand.
Maybe I am really losing my mind. As they say, surrounding yourself with crazies makes you fucked up, too.
The thought makes me smile.
It wasn’t always that I believed I was crazy, that I was losing it, but now that I’m in here, I know the true meaning of going nuts. It suits me well.
There aren’t a lot of things that I’ve brought with me when I came here. Whoever I was before died the night they kidnapped me. They … the men who used me like I was some kind of whore. Like I was theirs to abuse. As if I wasn’t a person. They said I should be glad I’m still alive … I say they should be scared that I’m still alive.
In my corner, I wobble up and down, my eyes skimming the walls and ceiling for any new cracks that I might have overlooked. It’s important to keep track of any changes in my environment; who knows, it might come in handy someday.
Like for escaping. Or, I don’t know, smacking someone over the head with some fallen rubble.
You never know.
I say I don’t feel anything, but maybe that’s a lie. A lie I tell myself so I can keep living and stay sane while I reside in pure insanity. There is only so much a human can accept and live with. I’m not going to claim I can take it all. I can’t, but at least I know the truth. That has to be worth something.
In this prison, I seem like a girl who’s lost everything. And I can’t say I don’t agree. I have lost everything that I once deemed mine. My body, my freedom, my mind. But no matter the sacrifices, they will never own my heart or soul. Those two things remain untouched; I will use those two things to destroy everything.
Yes … in this place where I sit like a dog in a corner, bumbling to myself like a lunatic, I scheme … I scheme to betray all that is good in order to escape.
And then I will have vengeance.
I won’t die before they do. And if I do, so help me god, I will pull them down this hellhole with me.

***

Five hours later


“Hey!”
A loud banging noise pulls me from my wobbling trance.
“Are you even fucking listening?”
I glance over my shoulder, snarling at the guard who rams his baton on the glass. I give him a squinty growl and then return to my sulking. No use wasting energy on dimwits who can’t or won’t help me. Nobody in here will help me, which is exactly the reason why I should focus on my own plans.
And my plans are to survive … and then kill.
Every bang is another reminder of the noise inside my head, the screams, and the pain that I bury. Their faces haunt me, and I lick the memory of their viciousness like a tiger licking its wounds. It feeds me, the rage … it keeps me alive, so that one day I can do the same to them.
“Whore …”
My nose twitches. Don’t react, Ashley. Don’t show them any emotion. Don’t give in to their taunts. It’s what they want, what they need, and I won’t give it to them. If this is my final sliver of power, I’ll fight to keep it.
“Hey, see this?” he says. “Fuck you. Suck my dick.” He punches the glass. “Don’t you fucking ignore me, you piece of shit.”
I swear, this is how they talk to patients in every normal psychiatric hospital. It’s normal.
I roll my eyes.
“Oh, fuck you. You don’t even deserve to live. Sad, worthless girl.” He laughs. “Pathetic …”
He stomps the glass a final time before he’s ripped away. I turn around to see if he’s gone, but a hand on the glass draws my attention. The door clicks open. My ears perk up. A shiny, black boot steps in.
Nobody’s stepped foot in here. Not since I arrived.
Something’s about to change. Big time.
I turn around and face the wall. Can’t show any interest. Curiosity is weakness, and weakness gets you killed. I don’t plan to die just yet.
I know how dangerous this place can be. Even when I’m trapped in this pretentious building, I know who runs this place … who decides what happens with me. Those men who used me keep me captive here like a dog. Even my slightest action will be on camera, and then shit’s going to hit the fan. I’d rather pretend to be meek and easy. It makes it easier to stab everyone in the back later.
“Leave us.”
His voice is stern, authoritative. Confident, but not too cocky. Probably a higher-up, but not in a way that gives him any real power. The door slides open and he steps further in. The sound of his clicking shoes draw my attention, and the way he closes the door again, very softly, gives me the idea he likes to think he’s in control.
No one can control me. No one.
A metallic sound ensues. Something is placed on the small table in the middle of my cell.
And then he directs his attention toward me. “Your name.”
I don’t answer. There is neither reason nor motivation for me.
He steps forward. I smash my lips together as I watch his shadow grow on the wall. The bright light emanating from the door is a little frightening when it lights him up like this, as if he’s a stalker creeping up to his prey.
“I said, your name.” His voice has gotten darker, more menacing.
I won’t allow myself to get scared. Not in here.
He stands behind me, and I watch his shadow on the wall, waiting for him to make a move, waiting for him to explode.
Except he doesn’t. What he does instead makes me swallow away a lump in my throat.
He pets me.
With his hand on my head, he makes soft strokes through my hair, sliding down toward my neck, and then back up to the top of my head. It’s eerie as well as totally unnerving that this man is touching me like this. Does he want me to resist? Or does he want me to fight? What is he expecting?
“You’re not quite the listener, are you?” he says.
I frown, but don’t answer him, and keep my eyes on the wall. I won’t give him an ounce of myself.
“That’s okay … I have plenty of time.”
My lips part, but then I shut them again. Goddammit. I’m almost tempted to ask questions, but it would only give him more insight into who I am. I can’t give them that luxury.
“Oh, my dear pet …” He chuckles. “You have no idea what you’re in for.”
“What?”
Shit.
I shut my mouth the moment I realize I spoke. Fuck!
He laughs again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be good for you, as long as you’re good for me.”
“What the fuck?”
“Don’t try to understand. You can’t,” he says, continuously petting me like I’m a dog.
My muscles tense from his fingers suddenly curling into the base of my neck.
“I know you know what happened to you. I know you remember everything.” He pinches my flesh. “You know why you’re here.”
Yes, I do. I remember vividly what those men did to me, and for that, I must be punished. I can’t be controlled, I can’t be made to think I’m insane, and that makes me a liability. That makes them want to put me in here. There is no mercy in this world. So I answer, “To be silenced and locked away forever.”
“Exactly.”
I sigh, trying not to feel threatened or angry by this admission, but it’s hard to ignore the bubbling rage.
“Stand up,” he commands.
His voice is unforgiving, to the point of me actually standing up. That’s a mighty feat. It’s not because I’m scared … more because I’m interested in why he has come to tell me news I already knew.
“Turn around.”
I slowly spin on my feet, my face completely blank as I face the man who came into my space. His longish, dark-brown hair falls beside his eyes like curtains darkening his narrow face. He has a cleft in his chin and strong cheekbones. His pitch-black eyes make me shiver. There is a slight smile on his thin lips. On his jacket is a peculiar pin button, one that I haven’t seen before. It’s one of the doctors, but not one I’ve seen before. They’re not all really doctors; some are, but most are fakes, meant to keep the patients in check. That’s all they do here; put up a show so nobody makes a scene, so everybody behaves.
Everybody but me, that is. That’s why they put me in this concrete cage.
“You are mine now,” he says.
“I am no one’s possession, just a prisoner,” I snarl.
He straightens my shirt, which hangs slightly askew across my shoulders. I like it better that way. It’s my way to rebel in a place with so little possibilities to fight.
“You are a prisoner and I am the one who holds the key to your cage.”
I muffle a laugh. “So? That doesn’t make me yours.”
“It will. Sooner or later.” He smiles. “You’re my pet now. There’s no reason for either of us to pretend you will ever believe our words or forget what you know.”
“I won’t,” I interject. “But I’m not going to be a toy for you, either.”
He squints. “You don’t have a choice.”
“Like you do. They are the ones keeping me here, not you. You don’t have me, they do.”
They gave you to me.”
“What?” Gave? Like I’m some sort of gift? The idea makes me want to hurl. “I doubt that.”
“They don’t have time to deal with difficult girls.”
“Good,” I say, swatting his hand away when he tries to grab a strand of my hair. “I’ll be even more difficult then.”
He laughs again. “I enjoy a challenge.”
“Is that why they gave me to you? I’m not some lion you can tame.”
“Your claws are sharp, though,” he muses.
I can’t stop the twitch in my nose. Goddammit, I want to kill this guy.
“Like I said, you’re mine now, and I intend to make you … less annoyingly difficult.”
“How?” I say. “That’s going to take a lot of effort. Annoying is my middle name.” I snort.
“You’ll see how.” The grin on his face makes me want to slap the living shit out of him.
For a second, I contemplate on doing just that, but then I remind myself there is a camera in the left corner and someone behind must be looking, waiting for me to bite. And then they can do even worse things to me. I won’t let it happen.
“Complicated cases are handed to me. Impossible ones even. Girls who refuse to bend.” He walks to the table and then turns around to face me again. “I break them.”
I study him for a moment. “Who are you?”
He cocks his head and points at the chair in front of him. “Sit.”
Of course, he won’t answer me. My eyes narrow. “Why?”
“I will tell you if you listen to me.”
Taking a deep breath, I take the chance and slump toward the table. Sitting down isn’t my style; I prefer to throw my ass into the chair. Just a little defiance keeps me going.
Only now do I spot the plate of food on the opposite end of the table. My mouth instantly begins to water.
“You can have it … if you behave.” He props himself against the table obstructing my view of the food. I immediately look up at him, probably with the face of a troll. Right now, I’m too hungry for anyone to stand between my food and me.
I lunge forward to grab it, but he’s so much faster than me, grabbing my wrists and jamming them to the table.
“I said behave.”
“Fuck you. I don’t owe you shit.”
“You do if you want to live.”
Sighing, I sit back, sulking in my chair. Goddammit, I’m fucking hungry. They haven’t fed me properly since I came here. Small amounts of porridge and dry bread don’t get me through the day. They’re so fucking cheap, I sometimes wish they had just killed me instead.
“What do you want?” I say.
“You.”
The way he says it, so sure of himself … so sure that he’ll get what he wants, makes my skin crawl.
“Why? Why me?”
He glances behind him and points at the camera in the corner. “I’ve been watching you for some time.”
“Pervert.”
He smiles. “You probably don’t even realize how accurate that is.”
Oh, my god. He has to be kidding … right?
He leans in and I lean back in my chair to get away. “You can’t escape this place, Ashley.”
My eyes widen at the sound of my own name.
“Yeah, I know what you’re called,” he muses. “Did you think I asked you because I didn’t know? Or because I wanted you to speak?” he growls.
“You wanted me to give you what you want.”
“Exactly.” He cocks his head again. “You’re beginning to understand.”
“Why on earth would I do what you want?”
“Oh, I have plenty of reasons, but an important one in particular.” He’s so close now; I can feel his breath on my skin. He whispers, “I can help you be free.”
That word makes me choke up.
“Why … why would I trust you? You can’t promise me anything.”
“You can’t, but you don’t have a choice. Either you listen to me and do what I say, or you stay in here … forever.”
Those words make me want to scream, but I don’t. It’s what he wants; I can see it in his eyes. That glint of amusement for his own victory. It’s the ugly truth.
“What do you want from me?” I ask. “Why did you come here? Why now, after all those days?”
He shifts his position against the metal table, which creaks. “You’re separated so you could calm down and we could observe your reaction to the environment.”
“I’m a Guinea pig.”
“Not entirely. You were just one of the few who didn’t go into full denial.”
“I would die before I would forget what those monsters did to me!” I yell, suddenly overcome with fury.
His eyes flare with excitement. “Hmmm …”
“Do you even know?” I ask through clenched teeth. “Do you realize what you’re doing?”
“I do.”
“Then you’re just as bad as they are.” I avert my eyes.
He suddenly leans forward, grabs my chin, and forces me to look at him. “I am not like them and do not for a moment suggest that I am.” He releases me with a slight twitch of his hand.
Clearing his throat, he says, “For your own sake, it would have been much better if you’d simply forgotten what you’d experienced, but unfortunately for the both of us, that isn’t the case.” He looks me straight in the eyes. “Now, if you wish to live, you will listen and do as I say. You know how they are … if you’re difficult, I have no other choice but to–”
“Kill me.” He seems caught off guard by my comment. “Yeah, I know what they’re like. Are you like that, too?” I ask, leaning forward with my elbow on the table. “Because that makes you just as evil.”
For a moment, his eyes narrow slightly, and his tongue quickly darts out to wet the side of his lip, but it disappears as quickly as it came.
He turns his head and gazes at the food. “I think we’re done talking.”
He jumps off the table and fetches the food before I have time to react. He doesn’t give it to me, instead, he holds it in his hand and walks to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“If you’re not going to behave, why do you think you deserve this?”
“Because I’m fucking hungry, and I need it. Jesus Christ, I haven’t eaten a proper meal in days!” I shout, scooting the chair back.
“Sit. Down.” His voice echoes against the door.
I grind my teeth. “Give it to me.”
It’s quiet for a second. “Ask nicely.”
I sigh out loud. “Goddammit, can I please have it?”
He glances over his shoulder. “Is that your nice side?”
“As nice as it gets with me.” I fold my arms.
He laughs like he’s really amused by that. “We’ll have to work on that then.”
He turns around and walks toward the table again. I breathe a sigh of relief as he puts the plate back on the table and slides it to my side.
“This is because I’m nice now.” He smiles. “Not because you deserve it.”
I growl, but don’t respond, because I don’t want him to take this away from me. I immediately grab a fork and start gobbling up the mashed potatoes like a starving homeless girl.
“You see? Do as I say, and you get what you want. Simple,” he muses. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll bring you better food. I’ll make sure you’re left alone.”
“In exchange for what?” I ask, spooning up some applesauce.
He grins. “You’ll know soon enough.”
The way he says it sends chills up my spine. So eerily dark, laced with poison.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I’d like to know who keeps me captive here. Who comes into my room every single time and makes me remember that I’m a prisoner to the sickest men on earth.”
He raises an eyebrow only slightly. “You want to know who takes care of you in here …” he muses, to prove his own point. Pathetic.
“No,” I say, holding my fork tight. “I want to know so I remember the name of the man I’m going to kill first.”
His eyes widen, and his lips part, but no sound comes out. Ha, gotcha, motherfucker. It’s not a lie. I am going to kill him someday. I don’t care how, but I will, with whatever means necessary. And then I’ll murder the rest of them.
After a stare down of almost a minute, I continue eating.
“My name is Sam Bailey,” he says. “And when I’m done with you, I’ll be the only guy on this planet you won’t be able to kill.”

Start reading the Delirious Series now!

SNARE (Book 1)

SEIZE (Book 2)

SCORCH (Book 3)
iBooks | Barnes&Noble | Kobo Google Play | Goodreads


Giveaway!
About the Author

Clarissa Wild is the Amazon Bestselling Romance author of FIERCE, a top 200 and top 15 New Adult Romance novel. She is also a writer of erotic romance such as the Blissful Series, The Billionaire's Bet series, the Doing It Series and the Enflamed Series. She is an avid reader and writer of sexy stories about hot men and feisty women. Her other loves include her furry cat friend and learning about different cultures. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, reading tons of books and cooking her favorite meals.

Want to get an email when the next book is released?
Sign up here: http://eepurl.com/FdY71


Find me here:
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | Pinterest | Amazon | Fanclub


Read More

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Chapter reveal!!! Seize (Delirious Book 2) - Clarissa Wild - Dark Erotic Romance with billionaire alpha



Title: SEIZE (#2, Delirious)
Author: Clarissa Wild
Publication Date: December 30, 2014
Genre: Dark Romance





Synopsis

True darkness has only just begun …

She thought she could run, but there´s nowhere to hide. My bad side is coming out to claim what belongs to me. This hunter has found his prey, and he’s hungry for more. She’s mine now, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep her to myself.
You think I’m the monster?
Think again.
When the choices you make decide your fate, the line between good and evil blurs. In order to live, I do what must be done. Freedom is the price she pays for her safety.
She wants the truth? I’ll give her the truth.
In order to play this game, sacrifices must be made.
I will start with her.

This is Volume 2 in the Delirious Series, which contains 3 volumes and a prequel. This book is a full-length novel. These books should be read in order.

WARNING: This book contains very disturbing situations, strong language, drugs and alcohol, dubious consent, and graphic violence.


Get your copy of SEIZE:





Chapter 1

Big River Management Area. Greenwich, Rhode Island – June 2nd, 2013, night

Lillith

“Sebastian, behind you!”
The shot fires the moment that he turns around. My scream isn’t as fast as the bullet approaching us. A quick shove and Sebastian has me tumbling to the ground. He grunts and roars as the bullet tears through his shoulder. He slumps, reaching for the wound.
That bullet was aimed at me, not him. He saved me from being killed by taking the bullet himself.
Still, his eyes are on me, focusing solely on me. “Run. Now.”
I scramble to my feet, grasping the opportunity to flee. Without looking back, I make a run for it. I don’t know where I’m going or what is happening, but I know that I have to get out of here. Some part of me is worried about Sebastian and another part wants him to be killed. I don’t know which side to pick.
It’s then that I hear them yell at each other.
“What the fuck, Lewis!” It’s Sebastian.
“Sorry, but you moved! I was aiming for her.”
“Fuck you! You fucking shot me! And now she ran again!” Sebastian yells. “Goddammit, I had her.”
“Well, you should’ve taken her when you had the chance.”
“I told you that I could handle this. Now let me do it before I shoot a fucking bullet at you, too.”
“Fine, but if she gets away, you know it’s your head that’s on the line, not mine.”
Their voices grow fainter and fainter, and I can’t help but notice how Sebastian weaves his way out of this like nothing happened. He wanted me to run, and yet he tells Lewis a very different story. Something’s not adding up.
My breathing is loud and rampant and my legs are shaking, but I keep on running. After a while, I sink to my knees, unable to suck in another breath. It takes me a while to breathe. When I stand up and try to walk again, I’m tackled to the ground.
I squeal, fighting my attacker.
“Shhh!”
“Get off me!”
I wriggle until I’m facing him. Only then do I notice that it’s Sebastian.
I try to slap him. “Asshole!”
I only get one hit in before he grabs both of my wrists and pins them down on my chest. “Stop. Listen to me.”
“No! First, you shoot at me. Then he shoots at us, and then I hear you yell at each other that you’re both hunting me? I’m not going to spend any second longer with you!” I push him away. Surprisingly, he flinches and backs off. That was too easy.
He frowns, grinding his teeth. “Don’t fucking run from me. Run away from them, but not from me. Not anymore.” He grabs his gun from the ground and points it at me.
“How can I trust that you won’t just use me and then kill me somewhere in the woods anyway? Somewhere no one can find my body?”
“Because I fucking need you,” he snaps. “And yes, I will kill you if you don’t come with me. I will not let anyone else have you. Ever.
I swallow as he gets off me. He helps me up from the ground, too, even though he’s making a face while doing it. The muscles in his arm are weakened. Red stains darken his coat. He watches me with raised gun, pinpointing my next movement, which I don’t even know. All I hear are his shallow breaths and groans.
“You’re hurt.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Not now,” he growls. “We have to get out of here.”
“Right.”
I turn around, trying to walk away, but he grabs my arms and holds me down again.
“I didn’t say you could go without me.” He pushes the barrel of the gun into my back.
“But why? Why do you care? You’re one of them!”
“Not by choice.”
“So, you’re not out to kill me?”
“No.”
“But you are one of them. So then, you call them and tell them to stop.”
“No, I can’t, and it won’t help one bit. Once they have something in their minds, they have to do it. It’s in their nature.”
I groan and sigh. “What do they want with me then?”
“Either they kill you or they take you with them. You jumped from the train when I told you not to. This is what happens when you don’t listen to me.”
“They’re coming after me? For running away from you?”
“Exactly, and neither of us wants you in their claws,” he says. “Now, are you going to come with me quietly, without a fight, or do I have to shoot you in the leg and carry you over my shoulder? Because, by God, I will do it if it means that you’ll come easily.” He takes the barrel away from my back as I let out a big breath.
I nod.
“Good.”
He hauls me with him, and I almost tumble over from the ferocity in his stride.
“Jesus, I can’t believe you’d go that far to keep me away from them.”
“If there’s a problem, I solve it. You were the problem, and I solved it.”
“With a gun? Are you insane? You could’ve called after me instead of shooting.”
“And you would not have believed me if I had told you the truth. Trust me, I’ve tried before.”
He’s not tried it with me, so I’d rather not think about what it means instead. I can’t even fathom the fact that he was helping them do this to us, let alone doing it to other women.
“I’d rather hurt you myself than let them do it. They’d hurt you in ways that you can’t imagine, and I will not let them touch my property.”
“I am not your property!” I tear myself away from his grasp.
“You were mine the moment that you stepped into my building. Now, come with me. Unless you want to die.”
I stare him down, contemplating if I could ever trust him again. I should’ve never trusted him in the first place, so why should I now? How do I know what’s the right choice?
“Sebastian!”
My eyes grow wide at the sound of a shrill and harsh voice calling out Sebastian’s name. Sebastian halts, his eyes skimming the forest like a hunter on the lookout for potential game.
“Who was that?” I whisper, following his gaze. “Is that the same guy from before? I recognized him.”
“Lewis. One of them.” He directs his attention back at me and holds out his hand. “Come here. Now.”
The way he talks to me, like I’m some sort of pet that he’s commanding, makes me seethe, but I hold my tongue and grab his hand. Right now, getting out of here alive is more important than prying information out of him, but I will definitely come back to this topic. I’m not done with him. Far from it. He has a lot of explaining to do, and I won’t stop asking questions until I find out the truth.
I struggle to keep up with his pace as he drags me along. We push our way through the dense forest, avoiding stumps and small rocks whenever possible but inevitable scrapes and cuts happen. Short bursts of pain to my legs and feet from running make me cringe, but I try to ignore them. Only the moon lights our path, but Sebastian seems to have adjusted quite well. His movements are hasty, without error, and I find myself questioning whether he’s done this —whether he’s hunted girls in the dark before.
However, now is not the time to think about things like that.
After what seems like an hour, we finally reach the road, but it’s midnight and there’s not a soul in sight. It’s then that Sebastian releases my hand and lowers his gun. “Stay here.” He fishes his cell phone out of his pocket. “Don’t move.”
I nod, wrapping my arms around my cold body. Shivering, I gaze at the trees behind us, expecting someone to appear at any moment.
“We’re here,” Sebastian grumbles into his phone, and then he checks a peculiar device that hangs from his neck, which I didn’t notice before. “Division road. The coordinates are 41.64 latitude and -71.59 longitude.” He puts his phone back into his pocket then sets his scorching gaze back on me. With a grunt, he grabs my hand and starts walking.
“Where are we going?”
He doesn’t answer as we keep walking down the road. Out of nowhere, a car seems to be racing toward us. For a second, I believe it’s coming straight at us for a hit and run, but then it stops and the car door opens.
“Get in,” Sebastian says as he hauls me to the door.
I step into the car as Sebastian walks to the other side and slides in. “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”
“Anything for you, Sir,” the man behind the wheel says.
“Let’s get out of here,” Sebastian urges. The driver nods and closes the blinds between us.
Suddenly, I’m aware of the fact that I’m alone in the backseat with the man who just tried to shoot me. I swallow away the nerves as he sets his gaze on me. The air between us grows thicker as the seconds tick by. I try to ignore it, but once he slips closer to me, it’s useless.
“Tell me where you’re taking me,” I demand, pressing my hands down on my lap as if it would keep him at bay.
I feel vulnerable, threatened, and stripped of everything that makes me human. Freedom has been taken away from me, but by God, I will fight to regain it. At the bottom of the well, there is only one way to go up, and that is by clawing your way out. I’ll do whatever is necessary to get back to my own life and help Ashley.
Anxiety storms through my head, causing irrational thoughts to take the upper hand. The urge to flee becomes too great. I move my hand to the door and start pulling on the handle. It won’t open, so I slam the window. “Let me out.”
“Calm down,” Sebastian says, placing his hand on my leg.
I swat him away. “Don’t touch me.”
He winces from the way I say it. No wonder. I feel grossed out and dirty that he touches me the way he does. As if he’s some sort of disease. It does feel like I’m surrounded by death.
“Stop,” he says calmly. “It won’t help you.”
“Just let me go then.”
“I can’t do that and you know why.”
“I can take care of myself just fine. I have two legs, a healthy set of lungs, and I can run like hell, so I’ll get myself to safety just fine.”
“No, you won’t.”
His fingers return to my leg and dig in, squeezing me. “Your legs are strong, perfect for fleeing, but they’re still no match for men with rifles who know how to shoot from a distance. You’d be easy prey. The only one who’s ever allowed to hunt you down is me.”
His touch becomes lighter again, softer, as he starts rubbing my leg, warming it up and creeping me out at the same time. It feels like he’s petting me.
“I want you to be safe,” he says, “to be okay. That was always my plan.”
I turn my head toward the window and look outside. Now that I know the full truth, it’s like I have even less of a chance to get my freedom back. I can’t give up. I just can’t.
So I force myself to continue ravaging this car, kicking and shoving, pulling out everything I have, just to make a point. I will not fucking give up on my life or on Ashley. The strong Lillith is back in full glory and I’ll be damned if I lose that part of myself again.
“You had to go and resist …” Sebastian grumbles, and then he grabs me by the waist and pulls me toward him. Something sharp is pointed at my neck. His knife.
“I told you what would happen if you kept on fighting me,” he whispers in my ear. The blade is painfully sharp, and I can feel it cut into my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Stop!”
“No, not until you stop fighting and let it go.”
“I won’t.”
“Then I don’t have any other choice.”
With the knife, he creates a line down the base of my neck and onto my shoulder. I yelp from the sharp pain, but gasp when I feel his hot mouth press down on my skin. He sucks, his tongue dipping out to lick me. He hums against my neck, holding the knife close to my vein as he kisses the blood off my skin.
“Hmm…” He groans in such a dirty way, it sounds as if he’s going to come. “Delicious.”
A red mark is left on my skin as he retreats.
Licking his lips, he says, “As expected.”
“You’re disgusting …” I murmur.
“Disgustingly aroused,” he says, biting his lip. “I want another taste.”
He dives in again, but I manage to push him away. “No!”
“Yes …” He keeps coming, biting my shoulder, and I squeal.
“Please!”
“What?” He kisses my skin and then bites me again.
“Please … stop,” I say, blinking away the impending tears.
“Oh, but that’s impossible now that I’ve tasted your blood. You are so deliciously riveting … I’ll never have enough.”
I’m so sick to my stomach that I could throw up. Although I’m not sure whether that’s because of him or because of the fact that I just faced death.
“Please … I don’t want this,” I say, feeling humiliated for having to beg him again, but I want this to stop. I need this to stop.
“But I do … and that is where I hold the power and you don’t,” he says, twisting the blade in his hand.
“Just stop … let me be … for just a few minutes,” I plead. “Just let me sit here in peace.”
“And you will stop fighting? Stop trying to trash my car?” His tongue darts out again to lick my skin, sending shivers up my spine.
“Yes.” I sigh, moving as close to the window as I can manage, far away from him.
“Good.”
Suddenly he slides away again, back to his own seat. Fazed, I turn my head and gaze at him, then at the wound on my shoulder, which is still oozing blood. He just bit me and now he’s suddenly done? This was all a trick to get me to be quiet.
“Now we’re both bleeding,” he muses.
From his corner, he smiles at me. He brings his finger to his face and swipes up a drop of blood left on his chin, brings it to his parted lips, and licks up my blood from his finger like it’s a lollipop and he’s savoring the taste.
I cringe a little.
“Now be a good fairy and sit still.”




SNARE (Book 1)


SEIZE (Book 2)

SCORCH (Book 3)
Goodreads


Giveaway!

Read More

© 2013 Clarissa Wild's Blog, AllRightsReserved.