We met in a perfect storm of violence and lust. He saved me and then disappeared from my life. Now I pretend I never knew that kind of darkness. I focus on midterms and campus parties, as if they can wipe the slate clean.
Release Date: February 23rd, 2016
Dark. Powerful. Dangerous.
Philip Mason has all of Chicago under his thumb. Except me.
We met in a perfect storm of violence and lust. He saved me and then disappeared from my life. Now I pretend I never knew that kind of darkness. I focus on midterms and campus parties, as if they can wipe the slate clean.
Then he turns up outside my dorm room—wounded and barely conscious. He’s the head of a crime syndicate, a powerful man, but he needs me now. There are traitors in his midst.
I can help him, but I can’t fall for him.
Not again.
EXCERPT
It was dark outside, grown late, and I hadn’t eaten
dinner yet. Somewhere out there, Philip was probably dining with crystal and
expensive wine. Meanwhile I’d probably order a pizza with one of those coupons
by the door.
A low sound raised the hair on my neck.
Oh God, I’m
not alone.
My gaze swept over the small dorm room. From here
I could see the tiny bedroom area and the kitchenette. I could see almost the
entire space. Empty.
Maybe it was just one of my neighbors getting busy
and—
The sound came again, louder. A shiver ran through
me. It was coming from outside the room, but not from either side. It was
coming from the door.
I crept over and looked out the peephole. An empty
hallway bulged in the distorted lens.
Now I was doubting myself. Had I actually heard
something? Maybe it had come from the dorm room across the hall. When I first
moved here, it had been shortly after my “ordeal,” as my adoptive mother called
it. I had jumped at every sound, both real and imagined, more traumatized by my
brush with danger than I’d wanted to admit.
My gaze snapped to my phone.
I could call my adoptive mother right now, but I
knew she wouldn’t want to be bothered. I could call the building management,
but I knew what would happen. The same thing that had happened last time I
called them. They’d send my floor advisor to check on me. If there was anything
scary in this hallway, she’d have to face it first.
And if there wasn’t anything scary, if it was my
imagination again, the PTSD I didn’t want to acknowledge, well then everyone
would know how fucked up I was inside.
No, I had to be overreacting. This was nothing.
There was no one in the hallway. And even if there was, it would be some drunk
guy, passed out on the wrong floor.
I’m a normal
college student, I reminded myself. I’m
not afraid of anything.
Both of those things were lies, I was neither
normal nor brave, but at least I could send a drunk frat boy on his way.
I opened the door a crack. Nothing.
Relief filled me, and I opened the door wider.
A body slid inside, slumped over without the door
to support him. A short scream escaped me before I caught myself.
He was wearing a three-piece suit stained with
blood, his expression slack, eyes glassy with pain and delirium. Philip.
Oh God, he was hurt. Really badly hurt if he
couldn’t stand up. Horribly hurt if he’d ever have come to me of all people. I
didn’t have time to process the shock of it, of seeing him again. I had to get
him out of sight. If he’d been injured like this, someone was after him.
Someone would want to finish the job.
About the author:
Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of dark romance. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely tender.
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