Running from hell isnʼt easy. Especially when someoneʼs dragging you back down into it. Belligerent, brash and always in shades of black, Freya is hardly a lady. Hidden away by her father, sheʼs lived a normal life despite being born into the dark waters of New Yorkʼs underworld. Heʼs cold, cruel and calculating, with a proclivity for destruction. Feared by even Made Men, Torren is the boss of the stateʼs most leachorous crime syndicate. Freya hates his crudity and possessiveness, but she canʼt deny the way her breath hitches at his rough touch, the deep timbre of his voice, and his dark, heated gaze. Torren hates her disobedience, her recklessness, and her chaos. To him, sheʼs only something to be tamed. And after he slips a ring on her hand, snatching away her future, she makes only one vow---to become his biggest torment.

Adonis Celts, the notorious monster who'd been rotting in prison for the past decade. Getting an interview with him just weeks before his release would be the story of a lifetime, and well worth the risk. With his hands cuffed and guards right outside the door, nothing could go wrong. Right? • • • "I've already explained I'm not afraid of you Mr. Celts. But it seems like you want me to be?" I retort. He leans forward in the chair, his face just a foot or two away from mine. The light flickers above us and it seems like a sign for me to shut the hell up. "Mmhm right. Well, maybe you have more nerve than sense then hm? Or you just don't scare as easily as the others." His jaw ticks slightly "But I can think of far better ways to get your heart racing. So no honey, fear is the last thing I want from a woman like you."

《 "You're a woman without a voice, Briony," he whispers against my lips. "Let me be the throat through which you scream." 》 Briony Strait Sex, masturbation, erotic thoughts. I was taught these things were shameful. Sinful. Vile. Girls like me aren't promiscuous. We look down on those who are. We're proper. Pure. Innocent. But the more I see of the masked man lurking in the shadows of the night, the more evidence of his sick obsession of me, the more my lustful imagination runs wild. I wanted sin. And I wanted it with him. Aero is my stalker. He's like the air around him. Vanishing whenever he pleases. Showing up to surprise me when I least expect it to pleasure me in ways unimaginable. He only has two rules for me: Give myself over to my hidden desires. Never find out who he is. What he doesn't realize is he's creating a monster. One with the same insatiable hunger for the sickest form of toxic love. THAT SIK LUV