by Lana Grayson
Series: Anathema #2
Publication: March 19th 2015
Category: New Adult
Genre: Romantic Suspense
The only thing more sacred than the Anathema MC is the vengeance of a wronged man…
Exiled from the Anathema MC, Brew Darnell escaped the bullet only to face the unforgiving solitude of the road. With no future before him, Brew battles his past and vows to protect the one he loves the only way he can—by hunting the man who destroyed his family, devastated the Anathema MC, and betrayed every promise he ever made.
Trapped in an abusive relationship with a sadistic biker, Martini Wright learned to manipulate, controlling her boyfriend’s temper with a wink and a smile until she’s traded as collateral to a rival MC. Her captor, Brew, has never trafficked a woman before, and Martini intends to exploit his guilty secrets to escape. Caught in the middle of a gang war, Brew and Martini fight a dangerous attraction—a second chance to heal from the mistakes of their past if they can confess the terrible truth.
Brew failed his family before, but Martini can still be saved. With redemption delivered at the edge of a blade, Brew must choose who to rescue—the one he already lost…or the love he never deserved.
The washcloth dipped into the water. I held my breath and reached across his chest, just barely rubbing the smudge of blood and dirt from his injured shoulder.
His eyes flashed open. Darkness, like the smoke of a roaring inferno, blackened his unfocused gaze. I screamed as he slammed his hand against my neck and tangled his fingers within the pink scarf. He yanked, pulling tight on the silk before driving me into the bed under him.
His gun pressed against my temple. His grip tightened over my throat.
Noir’s body pinned me against the mattress. Every muscle in his form tightened, forcing me into submission. I fell limp against the sheets.
Staying still was wise.
But I wasn’t wise.
I was a hopeless, utter, unfortunate lunatic. Not even a romantic. Nothing about the heat coursing through my veins was romantic. My stomach bundled into a knot of unsettled nerves and distrust, but the tingling shame shaded me as pink as the delicate scarf wadded in his hand, holding me against the bed like he claimed the collar, leash, and every binding that rendered me helpless under his power.
My breathing stuttered to a stop. His fingers hadn’t loosened, and the gun against my head locked steady, unlike the ravaging trembles which assaulted his aching body. I reach for him. I didn’t speak. I didn’t move.
I let him pin me.
Like a fool.
~About the Author~
Lana Grayson was born to write anything and everything to do with romance. Her favorite genres range from the dark and twisty to the lighthearted and sentimental—as long as the characters are memorable, the story is fun, and the romance is steamy. Lana lives in Pittsburgh with her husband, and, when she isn’t bundled in her writing chair, she’s most likely cheering on the Steelers or searching for the ‘Burgh’s best Italian restaurants.
Lana’s Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads
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