Meet Killian in Pepper Winter’s new MC Romance!
NOW AVAILABLE
Blurb
"We met in a nightmare. The in-between world where time had no power over reason. We fell in love. We fell hard. But then we woke up. And it was over . . ."
RUIN & RULE
She is a woman divided. Her past, present, and future are as twisted as the lies she's lived for the past eight years. Desperate to get the truth, she must turn to the one man who may also be her greatest enemy . . .
He is the president of Pure Corruption MC. A heartless biker and retribution-deliverer. He accepts no rules, obeys no one, and lives only to reap revenge on those who wronged him. And now he has stolen her, body and soul.
Can a woman plagued by mystery fall in love with the man who refuses to face the truth? And can a man drenched in darkness forgo his quest for vengeance-and finally find redemption?
"Ruin & Rule is a full-length book at 436 pages and ends on a cliffhanger. Cleo and Kill's story continues in SIN & SUFFER."
Prologue
We
met in a nightmare.
The
in-between world where time had no power over rhyme, reason, or connection. We
met. We stared. We knew.
There
was no distortion from the outside world. No right or wrong. No confusion or
battles from hearts and minds.
Just
us. In our silent dreamworld.
That
nightmare became our home. Planting ghosts, raising fantasies. Entwined
together in our happily skewed reality.
We
fell in love. We fell hard.
In
those fleeting seconds of our nightmare, we lived an eternity.
But
then we woke up.
And
it was over.
Chapter
One
I
always believed life would grant rewards to those most worthy. I was fucking
naïve. Life doesn’t reward—it ruins. It ruins those most deserving and takes
everything. It takes everything all while watching any remaining goodness rot
to hate.
—Kill
Darkness.
That
was my world now. Literally and physically.
The
back of my skull hurt from being knocked unconscious. My wrists and shoulders
ached from lying on my back with my hands tied behind me.
Nothing
was broken—at least it didn’t feel that way—but everything was bruised. The
fuzziness receded wisp by wisp, parting the clouds of sleep, trying to shed
light on what’d happened. But there was no light. My eyes blinked at the
endless darkness from the mask tied around my head. Anxiety twisted my stomach
at having such a fundamental gift taken away.
I
didn’t move, but mentally catalogued my body from the tips of my toes to the
last strand of hair on my head. My jaw and tongue ached from the foul rag
stuffed in my mouth and my nose permitted a shallow stream of oxygen to
enter—just enough to keep me alive.
Fear
tried to claw its way through my mind, but I shoved it away. I deliberately
suppressed panic in order to assess my predicament rather than lose myself to
terror.
Fear
never helps, only hinders.
My
senses came back, creeping tentatively, as if afraid whoever had stolen me
would notice their return.
Sound:
the squeak of brakes, the creak of a vehicle settling from motion to stopping.
Touch:
the skin on my right forearm stung, throbbing with a mixture of soreness and
sharpness. A burn perhaps?
Smell:
dank rotting vegetables and the astringent, pungent scent of fear—but it wasn’t
mine. It was theirs.
It
wasn’t just me being kidnapped.
My
heart flurried, drinking in their terror. It made my breath quicken and legs
itch to run. Forcing myself to ignore the outside world, I focused inward.
Clutching my inner strength where calmness was a need rather than a luxury.
I
refused to lose myself in a fog of tears. Desperation was a curse and I
wouldn’t succumb, because I had every intention of being prepared for what
might happen next.
I
hated the sniffles and stifled sobs of others around me. Their bleak sadness
tugged at my heartstrings, making me fight with my own preservation, replacing
it with concern for theirs.
Get
through this, then worry about them.
I
didn’t think this was a simple opportunistic snatch. Whoever had stolen me
planned it. The hunch grew stronger as I searched inside for any liquor
remnants or the smell of cigarettes.
Had
I been at a party? Nightclub?
Nothing.
I
hadn’t been stupid or reckless. I think…
No
hint or clue as to where I’d been or what I’d been doing when they’d come for
me.
I
wriggled, trying to move away from the stench. My bound wrists protested,
stinging as the rope around them gnawed into my flesh like twine-beasts. My
ribs bellowed, along with my head. There was no give in my restraints. I
stopped trying to move, preserving my energy.
I
tried to swallow.
No
saliva.
I
tried to speak.
No
voice.
I
tried to remember what happened.
I
tried to remember…
Panic.
Nothing.
I
can’t remember.
“Get
up, bitch,” a man said. Something jabbed me in the ribs. “Won’t tell you again.
Get.”
I
froze as my mind hurtled me from present to past.
I’ll
miss you so much,” she wailed, hugging me tighter.
“I’m
not dying, you know.” I tried to untangle myself, looking over my shoulder at
the final call flashing for my flight. I hated being late for anything. Let
alone my one chance at escaping and finding out the truth once and for all.
“Call
me the moment you get there.”
“Promise.”
I drew a cross over my heart—
The
memory shattered as my horizontal body suddenly went vertical in one swoop.
Who
was that girl? Why did I have no memory of it ever happening?
“I
said get up, bitch.” The man breathed hard in my ear, sending a waft of reeking
breath over me. The blindfold stole my sight, but it left my nose woefully
unprotected.
Unfortunately.
My
captor shoved me forward. The ground was steady beneath my feet. The sickness
plaiting with my confusion faded, leaving me cold.
My
legs stumbled in the direction he wanted me to go. I hated shuffling in the
darkness, not knowing where I came from or where I was being herded. There were
no sounds of comfort or smothered snickers. This wasn’t a masquerade.
This
was real.
This
is real.
My
heart thudded harder, fear slipping through my defenses. But full-blown terror
remained elusive. Slippery like a silver fish, darting on the outskirts of my
mind. It was there but fleeting, keeping me clear-headed and strong.
I
was grateful for that. Grateful that I maintained what dignity I had
left—remaining strong even in the face of the unknown terrors lurking on the other
side of my blindfold.
Moans
and whimpers of other women grew in decibels as men ordered them to follow the
same path I walked. Either death row or salvation, I had no choice but to inch
my way forward, leaving my forgotten past behind.
I
willed snippets to come back. I begged the puzzlement of my past to slot into
place, so I could make sense of this horrible world I’d awoken in.
But
my mind was locked to me. A fortress withholding everything I wished to know.
The
pushing stopped. So did I.
Big
mistake.
“Move.”
A cuff to the back of my head sent me wheeling forward. I didn’t stop again. My
bare feet traversed…wood?
Bare
feet?
Where
are my shoes?
The
missing knowledge twisted my stomach.
Where
did I come from?
How
did I end up here?
What’s
my name?
It
wasn’t the terror of the unknown future that stole my false calmness. It was
the fear of losing my very self. They’d stolen everything. My triumphs, my
trespasses, my accomplishments and failures.
How
could I deal with this new world if I didn’t know what skills I had to stay
alive? How could I hope to defeat my enemy when my mind revolted and locked me
out?
Who
am I?
To
have who I was deleted…It was unthinkable.
“Faster,
bitch.” Something cold wedged against my spine, pushing me onward. With my
hands behind my back, I shuffled faster, negotiating the ground as best I could
for dips or trips.
“Step
down.” The man grabbed my bound wrists, giving me something to lean against as
my toes navigated the small steps before me.
“Again.”
I
obeyed.
“Last
one.”
I
managed the small staircase without falling flat on my face.
My
face.
What
do I look like?
A
loud scraping noise sounded before me. I shied back, bumping against a feminine
form. The woman behind me cried out—the first verbal sound of another.
“Move.”
The pressure on my lower back came again, and I obeyed. Inching forward until
the stuffy air of old vegetables and must was replaced by…copper and
metallic…blood?
Why…why
is that so familiar?
I
gasped as my mind free-fell into another memory.
“I
don’t think I can do this.” I darted away, throwing up in the rubbish bin in
the classroom. The unique stench of blood curdled my stomach.
“Don’t
overthink it. It’s not what you’re doing to the animal to make it bleed. It’s
what you’re doing to make it live.” My professor shook his head, waiting for me
to swill out my mouth and return white-faced and queasy to the operation in
progress.
My
heart splintered like a broken piece of glass, reflecting the compassion and
responsibility I felt for such an innocent creature. This little puppy that’d
been dumped in a plastic bag to die after being shot with BB gun pellets. He’d
survive only if I mastered the skills to stem his internal bleeding and embrace
the vocation I was called to do.
Inhaling
the scent of blood, I let it invade my nostrils, scald my throat, and
impregnate my soul. I drank its coppery essence. I drenched myself in the smell
of the creature’s life force until it no longer affected me.
Picking
up a scalpel, I said, “I’m ready—”
“Holy
fuck!” The man guiding me forward suddenly whacked the base of my spine. The
hard pain shoved me forward and I tripped.
“Wire—get
me fucking reinforcements. He’s started a motherfucking war!”
Wind
and body motion swarmed me as men charged from behind. The darkness I lived in
suddenly came alive with sound.
Bullets
flew, impaling themselves into the metal sides of the vehicle I’d just stepped
from. Pings and ricochets echoed in my ear.
Curses bellowed; moans of pain threaded like a breeze.
Someone
grabbed my arm, swinging me to the side. “Get down!” The inertia of his throw
knocked me off balance. With my wrists bound together, I had nothing to grab
with, no way to protect myself from falling.
I
fell.
My
stomach swooped as tumbled off a small platform and smashed against the ground.
Dirt,
damp grass, and moldy leaves replaced the stench of blood, cutting through the
cloying sharpness of spilled metallic. My mouth opened, gasping in pain. Blades
of grass tickled my lips as my cheek stuck to wet mud.
My
shoulder screamed with agony, but I ignored the new injury. My mind clung to
the unlocked memory. The fleeting recollection of my profession.
I’m
a vet.
The
sense of homecoming and security that one little snippet brought was priceless.
My soul snarled for more, suddenly ravenous for missing information.
I
skipped straight from fumbling uncertainty into starvation for more.
Tell
me! Show me. Who am I?
I
searched inside for more clues. But it was like trying to grab on to an elusive
dream, fading faster and faster the harder I chased.
I
couldn’t remember anything about medicine or how to heal. All I knew was I’d
been trained to embrace the scent of blood. I wasn’t afraid of it. I didn’t
faint or suffer sickness at the sight of it pouring from an open wound.
That
tiniest knowledge was enough to settle my prickling nerves and focus on the
outside world again.
I
couldn’t understand. Had I fallen through time and entered an alternate
dimension?
Another
body landed on top of mine.
I
cried out, winded from a sharp poke of an elbow to my ribs.
The
figure rolled away, crying softly. Feminine.
Why
aren’t I crying?
I
once again searched for fear. It wasn’t natural not to be afraid. I’d woken up
alone, stolen, and thrown into the middle of a war, yet I wasn’t
hyperventilating or panicked.
My
calmness was like a drug, oozing over me, muting the sharp starkness of my
situation. It was bearable if I embraced courage and the knowledge that I was
strong.
My
hands balled, grateful for the thought. I didn’t know who I was, but it didn’t
matter, because the person who I was in this moment mattered the most.
I
had to remain segmented, so I could get through whatever was about to happen.
All I had was gut instinct, quiet strength, and rationality. Everything else
had been taken.
“Stop
fighting, you fucking idiots!”
The
loud growl rumbled like an earthquake, hushing the battle in one fell swoop.
Whoever had spoken had power.
Immense
power. Colossal power.
A
shiver darted over my skin.
“What
the fuck happened? Have you lost your goddamn lovin’ mind?” a man yelled.
A
sound of a short scuffle, then the fresh whiff of tilled dirt graced my nose.
“It’s
done. Throw down your weapons and bend a fucking knee.” The same earthquake
rumbled. The weight of his command pushed me harder against the damp ground.
“I’m
not bending nothing, you asshole. You aren’t my Prez!”
“I
am. Have been for the past four years.”
“You’re
not. You’re his bitch. Don’t think his power is yours.”
Another
fight—muffled fists and kicks. It ended swiftly with a painful groan.
The
earthquake voice came again. “Open your eyes and follow the red fucking river.
Your chosen—the one you hand-picked to slaughter me and take over the Club—he’s
dead. Did you ever stop to think Wallstreet made me Prez for a fucking reason?”
Another
moan.
“I’m
the chosen one. I’m the one who knows the family secrets, absorbed the legacy,
and earned his way into power. You don’t know shit. Nobody does. So bend a
fucking knee and respect.”
Another
tremor ran down my back.
Silence
for a time, apart from the squelch of boots and heavy breathing. Then a barely
muttered curse. “You’ll die. One way or another, we won’t put up with a Dagger
as a Prez. We’re the Corrupts, goddammit. Having a traitor rule us is a fucking
joke.”
“I’m
the traitor? The man who obeys your leader? Who guides in his stead? I’m the
traitor when you try and rally my brothers in a war?” A heavy thud of a fist
connected with flesh. “No…I’m not. You are.”
My
mind raced, sucking up noises and forming wild conclusions of what happened
before me. Was this World War Three? Was this the apocalypse of the life I
couldn’t remember? No matter how I pieced it together, I couldn’t make sense of
anything.
The
air was thick with anticipation. I didn’t know how many men stood before me. I
didn’t know how many corpses littered the ground, or how such violence could be
permitted in the world I used to know. But I did know the cease-fire was
fragile and any moment it would explode.
A
single threat slithered through the grass like a snake. “I’ll kill you,
motherfucker. Mark my words. The true Corrupts are just waiting to take you
out.”
The
gentle foot-thuds of someone large vibrated through the ground. “The Corrupts
haven’t existed for four fucking years. The moment I took the seat, it’s been
Pure Corruption all the way. And you’re not fucking pure enough for this Club.
You’re done.”
I
flinched as the sulfuric boom of a gun ripped through the stagnant air.
A
crash as a body fell lifeless to the grass. A soft puff of a soul escaping.
Murder.
Murder
was committed right before me.
The
inherent need to nurture and heal—the part of me that was as steadfast as the
beat of my heart—wept with regret.
Death
was something I’d fought against on a daily basis, but now I was weaponless.
I
hated that a life had been stolen right before me. That I hadn’t been able to
stop it.
I’m
a witness.
And
yet, I’d witnessed nothing.
I’d
been privy to a battle but seen nothing. Knew no one. I would never be able to
tell who shot whom, or who was right and who was wrong.
My
hands shook, even though I managed to stay eerily calm. Am I in shock? And if I
was, how did I cure myself?
The
woman beside me curled into a ball, her knees digging into my side. My first
reaction was to repel away from the touch. I didn’t know who was friend or foe.
But a second reaction came quickly; the urge to share my calmness—to let her
know that no matter what happened, she wasn’t alone. We faced the same
future—no matter how grim.
Voices
cascaded over us, whispers mainly, quickly spoken orders. Every sound was
heightened. Being robbed of sight made my body seek other ways in which to find
clues.
“Get
rid of the bodies before daybreak.”
“We’ll
go back and make sure we’re still covered.”
“Send
out the word. It’s over. The Prez won—no anarchy today.”
Each
voice was distinct but my ears twitched only for one: the earthquake rumble
that set my skin quivering like quicksand.
He
hadn’t spoken since he’d condemned someone to death and pulled the trigger.
Every second of not hearing him made my heart trip faster. I wasn’t afraid. I
should be. I should be immobile with fear. But he invoked something in
me—something primal. Just like I knew I was female and a vet, I knew his voice meant
something. Every inch of me tensed, waiting for him to speak. It was wrong to
crave the voice of a killer, but it was the only thing I wanted.
Needed.
I
need to know who he is.
Wet
mud sucked loudly against boots as they came closer.
The
woman whimpered, but I angled my chin toward the sound, wishing my eyes were
uncovered.
I
wanted to see. I wanted to witness the carnage before me. Because it was
carnage. The stench of death confirmed it. It was morbid to want to see such
destruction, but without my sight all of this seemed like a terrible nightmare.
Nothing was grounded—completely nonsensical and far too strange.
I
needed proof that this was real.
I
needed concrete evidence that I wasn’t mad. That my body was intact, even if my
mind was not.
I
sucked in a breath as warm fingers touched my cheek, angling my face upward and
out of the mud. Strong hands caressed the back of my skull, fumbling with my
blindfold.
The
anticipation of finally getting my wish to see made me stay still and cooperative
in his hold.
I
didn’t say a word or move. I just waited. And breathed. And listened.
The
man’s breath was heavy and low, interspersed with a quick catch of pain. His
fingers were swift and sure, but unable to hide the small fumble of agony.
He’s
hurt.
The
pressure of the blindfold suddenly released, trading opaque darkness for a new
kind of gloom.
Night
sky. Moonshine. Stars above.
Anchors
of a world I knew, but no recognition of the dark-shrouded industrial estate
where blood gleamed silver-black and corpses dotted the field.
I’m
alive.
I
can see.
The
joy at having my eyes freed came and went as blazing as a comet.
Then
my life ended as our gazes connected.
Green
to green.
I
have green eyes.
Down
and down I spiraled, deeper and deeper into his clutches.
My
life—past, present, and future—lost all purpose the second I stared into his
soul.
The
fear I’d been missing slammed into my heart.
I
quivered. I quaked.
Something
howled deep inside with age-old knowledge.
Every
part of me arched toward him, then shied away in terror.
Him.
A
nightmare come to life.
A
nightmare I wanted to live.
If
life was a tapestry, already threaded and steadfast, then he was the scissors
that cut me free. He tore me out, stole me away, changed the whole prophecy of
who I was meant to be.
Jaw-length
dark hair, tangled and sweaty, framed a square jaw, straight nose, and full
lips. His five-o’clock stubble held remnants of war, streaked with dirt and
blood. But it was his eyes that shot a quivering arrow into my heart, spreading
his emerald anger.
He
froze, his body curving toward mine. Blistering hope flickered across his
features. His mouth fell open and love so achingly deep glowed in his gaze.
“What—” A leg gave out, making him kneel beside me. His hands shook as he
cupped my face, his fingers digging painfully into my cheekbones. “It’s not—”
My
heart raced. Yes.
“You
know me,” I breathed.
The
moment my voice webbed around us, storm clouds rolled over the sunshine in his
face, blackening the hope and replacing it with pure hatred.
He
changed from watching me like I was his angel to glowering as if I were a despicable
devil.
I
shivered at the change—at the iciness and hardness. He breathed hard, his chest
rising and falling. His lips parted, a rumbling command falling from his mouth
to my ears. “Stand up. You’re mine now.”
When
I didn’t move, his hand landed on my side. His touch was blocked by clothing
but I felt it everywhere. He stroked my soul, tickled my heart, and caressed
every cell with fingers that despised me.
I
couldn’t suck in a proper breath.
With
a vicious push, he rolled me over, and with a sharp blade sliced my bindings.
With effortless power, so thrilling and terrifying, he hauled me to my feet.
I
didn’t sway. I didn’t cry. Only pulled the disgusting gag from my mouth and
stared in silence.
I
stared up, up, up into his bright green eyes, understanding something I
shouldn’t understand.
This
was him.
My
nightmare.
About the Author
Pepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex.....her books have sex. She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends.
Her Dark Erotica books include:
Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)
Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)
Her Grey Romance books include:
Destroyed
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