*38 CHAPTERS EDITED*
[WARNING] THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXTREME GRAPHIC CONTENT AND IS NOT MADE FOR A LIGHT READ
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I lift my hand, holding my pistol to his chest, hovering over his heart. He stares at me, emotions spilling out of him. Emotions I can't decipher.
He leans closer, the tip of the barrel pressing into his skin, just above his heart. "Do it," he whispers, inches from my face.
I hold his gaze, while his hands snake under my shirt, grazing my skin.
"I dare you," he lowers his voice, so gently, "Shoot me."
My finger curls around the trigger, an inch from pulling it. I glare into his eyes, "You're a fucking monster," I whisper.
He nods, "I know."
"You kill without remorse," I spit.
"I know."
"I hate you," My finger screams at me to pull the trigger.
"I know."
"I'm disgusted by you."
"I know," he inhales, letting his forehead rest against mine.
His gaze falls to my lips, "If you want me dead, then kill me, pull the trigger."
-
It's no longer a question. My morals are gone, leaving nothing but a monstrous killing machine.
Any hope for some sort of sympathy, some regard for life is nonexistent.
I want death.
I want to be the bringer of death, and the essence of slaughter.
-
Rhea Windsor, the newest ruler of Ovantasa after her parents- the former king and queen were assassinated. Her mind in the pits of despair guided by vengeance, leaving nothing but a body of handcrafted slaughter and within that madness, she comes across a man made for killing.
The ruthless killer known as Elijah Anton, who forces her to turn her back on her morals and grip on sanity.
What happens when she realizes she wasn't as innocent as she thought and teeters on a heart of purity and blinding hate?
When perfect becomes unattainable and her flaws take it's place?
| THIS BOOK CONTAINS |
Heavy Sexual Content
Extreme Violence
Sexual Harassment
Mentions Of Sexual Assault
Suicidal Thoughts
HIGHEST RATINGS; #2 in cuteromance #53 in men #34 in younglove
SAMPLE
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I must've looked like an idiot, just staring at him through my car window.
His voice is gentler than it was before, kinder. "I didn't catch your name," He says, and I feel my cheeks heat up. He's so confident. I would be, too, if I looked like him. Now that he's up close, I can see how gorgeous he really is. His eyes, a beautiful brown and green mix, complemented by his curly brown hair, so dark it would probably look black if he weren't standing beneath the sun that had peeked back from behind the selfish clouds. It had almost golden-colored steaks through it. The curls were only on the top part of his head, the sides were buzz-cut, which I was thankful for- I didn't like guys with long hair. His entire face was like a stone sculpture; chiseled to perfection. His eyebrows, thick and arched a bit as he looks at me...
He interrupts my thoughts by clearing his throat, and I blush again. "Calleigha," I say, smiling slightly. He returns the smile and leans on the car a bit, his arms on the door. "And you are?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.
"I'm Dominic, Dominic Wixton," He says, and offers his hand, which I shake, his strong hand holding mine with the perfect amount of grip. Wow. This dude is literally perfect. His voice cuts through my thoughts. "Calleigha," He repeats and nods a bit, his hand folded back over the other. "That's a mouthful," He says and laughs a bit.
~