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
[ORN_SB]
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.
Battle cries. Men
screaming. Men growling. The dense thuds of fists on flesh and the horrible
deflection of gunshots.
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
