The Broken Boys
Brutal Beauty Series
The Pretty One
Celia Monrovia
I should be revolted by how Rage touches me like he owns me... but the way he beats the shit out of someone for touching me reaches the deepest scars around my heart and squeezes.
This isn’t a man staking his claim for all the world to witness.
It’s the promise of him keeping it.
The Possessive Bastard
Rage
If we’re playing a game to see whose lap she’ll sit on tonight, willingly or otherwise, there’s only one possible victor, and he’s standing right fucking here. Convincing the room—and the idiot hooked to her side—is the easy part. Convincing Celia that she’s mine, however, is the challenge.
But I know one thing for certain: failure isn’t a fucking option. Celia Monrovia will understand not only that she’s mine, but she’ll know what that means by the end of the night.
No matter how much it fucking hurts to swallow.
The Rebellious One
Rebel
“We’re figuring this out, Celia. You are my girlfriend, at least I think so. Fuck, baby, I don’t know what to call it, but does it matter? You’re mine just as much as you are Rage’s." He drags me into his chest and slips his hand into my hair, tilting my head back to peer into my eyes.
It’s hard to stay angry when he looks at me like he’s falling in love.
The Broken One
Ruin
“The fire,” I begin calmly, grabbing my shirt and tugging. I lift the fabric over my stomach so that she can see the mottled flesh underneath. “The fire took pieces of me, krosotka, pieces I haven’t been able to find. Look all you want, but you won’t find them, either.”
The Guarded Heart
Riot
“You don’t need a compliment from me, Princess.”
I snap my eyes to his, catching the flash of burning need before he can hide it. We stare at each other for as long as we dare, neither of us moving. “Maybe I want one. From you.”
He sucks in a breath, his gaze flicking to my lips. “I can’t.”
My heart pounds as I squeeze his fingers. “Why not?”
He leans closer, gently brushing his lips against my cheek in a whisper of a kiss. His warm breath tickles my nose as he rumbles his answer. “You’re not mine.”
The Baranova Bratva
The Princess
Valentina Baranova
All I have is my name, my body, and my bloodline.
Three things that I should own. But that’s not how life works when you’re a mafia princess — you’re rarely in charge of your own life. Someone else claims it for themselves, turns you into a marionette, and pulls your strings however they please.
It’s the life I thought I was destined for.
The ex-fiance
Andrei Leonov
“Your life, your death, your soul. All of it is mine.” He squeezes my throat tightly, panic ripping through me as he cuts off my air. My heart beats frantically in my chest, begging for life.
“You will marry me, Valentina Baranova, because I won’t settle for less.”
The Bodyguard
Ezra Reinoff
She wraps her arms around my chest and holds me tight, finally letting me fold my battered, broken wings around her, shielding her from all the daggers held at her back.
I used to be her guardian angel. She told me that once.
A strangled laugh cracks in my throat.
Angels don’t do the kinds of things I do. But you keep on believing, Valentina, and maybe someday, I’ll become the man you think I am.
The billionaire
Mikhail Monrovia
“I’m allowed to stare,” I say simply. She couldn’t stop me from staring if she tried.
“It’s indecent.” Her lips purse ever so slightly, like she’s tasted something sour. “You look like a madman.”
My tongue slides out across my upper lip, and her eyes catch the movement. She blushes harder.
Will she tell me I taste like a madman too?