Mercy was the furthest thing from his mind as his eyes claimed her body. She didn’t know him, didn’t know that the part of him that hadn’t been born a monster had died a long time ago. Her eyes sought out his, hoping – still hoping, the foolish woman – and pleading him for mercy. Panic and terror beat a frantic rhythm under her skin. Her pulse hummed under his mouth where he kissed her throat. He couldn’t resist and he didn’t have to, not anymore, not ever again with her. She smelled flowery with a hint of sweat. He leaned down until his nose was inches from the skin below her ear and breathed in.

Maybe even loved it if he were capable of that kind of emotion. Her pulse hammered against his rough palm. Her pupils dilated but he put no pressure into his touch. His hand traced the soft skin of her throat, then his fingers wrapped around it. He knew he could kill her, no doubt about it. He’d got out of the habit of hoping a long time ago. Hope it made people foolish, made them believe in something beyond reality.

She’d tried to fight, tried to be brave, tried to hurt him, maybe even kill him. His fingers found her wrist her heartbeat was fluttering like a birds. She looked like a porcelain doll: big blue eyes, chocolate hair and creamy white skin breakable beautiful, something that he wasn’t meant to touch with his scarred, brutal hands. Subscribe to Cora’s newsletter to find out about her next books, bonus content and giveaways! ( )Ĭover design by Romantic Book Affairs Design All names, characters, businesses, events and places are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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