The King I Buried (underconstruction)

The King I Buried (underconstruction)

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Auriela came to New York City to disappear. To outrun the shadows clawing at her back but ghosts don't care about your zip code-and the past never stays buried for long especially not in the Big Apple. What should've been just another night out ends in a white shirt soaked in blood. A lifeless body on the concrete. And standing over her? Vincent King. The secret she never got over. Nothing could've prepared her for the web of lies thicker than blood or the truths that cut deeper than any betrayal. This isn't just about revenge. It's not just about survival. It's about the truth. And the truth? It's lethal.    What is a King without his Queen? As good as dead.    1/2 PARTS. TRIGGER WARNING: This book contains abuse, sexual violence and murder. (No part of this literary work may be reproduced or used without written and verbal consent from the author.)
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Raven Rodriguez has grown up a normal life with the future of the mafia looming over her back. A new guy moves to her school and seems to make it his mission to torment her. Raven has no clue why, at first she hated it, she hated him, but then she realised that something else was between them. A strong desire for one another. When Raven discovers Hunters biggest secret, the door is opened into the world of Mafia far sooner than she had planned. What happens in this exciting, thrilling, sexy world of the mafia as a young women, just trying to survive, just trying to find out who she is. ----- Chapter 1: I turned to go sit down when I caught someone watching from the corner of my eye. He was staring at me with an expression of pure hatred. I stared back. I must admit, even with such a nasty look on his face, he was rather attractive. His powerful arms were crossed, the unzipped leather jacket tight around the biceps. I could just make out dark tattoos poking out of the white collar of his uniform, brushing against his sharp jawline. His dark brown hair, do dark it was nearly black, looked as if he had sat in front of the mirror styling it, or perhaps he had just got out of bed. Still, as I turned to sit, I couldn't help but feel as if those deep, storm blue eyes were still watching me, burning a hole in my back. I didn't know his name, but the look he gave me made me feel as if he knew everything, and I mean everything about me. Word count: 90,000 warnings: mature themes and violence

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