Bloody Cruel Monster, the dark and all-consuming second book in The Bloody Duet from USA Today bestselling author Lucy Smoke is available now!
It will end the same way it started … with death.
Clover
I gave Braxton Smalls everything. I sacrificed myself and all I ended up with was a broken heart and a shattered soul. Now, I’ve got bigger things to worry about than an angry Eastpoint Heir hot on my trail.
Brax may be the psycho who kidnapped me–but he’s nothing compared to the organization my brother works for.
And me? I’m the monster ready to wreck them all.
Braxton
I live for vengeance. That’s all I know, all I see. Until her. Until Clover La Roux. No … until Evgenia Volkov. Daughter of a Russian mobster. Sister to the man who tortured one of my best friends. The only woman to ever satisfy the cruel desires inside of me.
Whoever took her will pay with their lives. And once I have her back, I’ll make sure she can never leave me again. Consequences be damned.
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Excerpt
“You’re going to have to forgive me at some point,” he replies. “Because I’m not letting you go, Clover.”
“I don’t have to do shit,” I tell him. “It’s my life, my choices. For all the power you have, Brax, you can’t force me to love you.”
His amusement drops away and he reaches up, fingers tightening around my wrist. I press into his carotid artery and feel a responding movement against the lips of my sex. I blink and glance down, shocked. “Are you fucking hard? Now?”
“My baby is sitting, half naked on my dick with her hand around my throat,” he replies coolly. “Were you not trying to get me hard?”[HL1]
On instinct, I release a growl and tighten my hold. “You are so fucked up, Braxton.”
“I could say the same for you, Clover,” he replies. “Or would you prefer Evgenia?”
“I would prefer not to look at your traitorous fucking face, yet here we are.”
“Right,” he agrees readily and then offers me a smug grin before continuing, “with your pussy rubbing against my cock. Perfect place, if you ask me.”
My chest pumps up and down. What now? I think. Do I kill him? Can I? My head fogs over with the desire. “You’re mad at me for leaving,” I say, my words barely above a whisper as his hands creep up the line of my hips. His bare palms skim the outside of my naked thighs.
More heat. More ice. They’re like warring sides within me. One side trying to be calm and rational and the other obliterating it without a care. I can’t tell which will win. I can’t tell which one I want to win.
“But I think I have more of a reason to be pissed,” I continue, trying as hard as I can to ignore those emotions and feelings and the wetness gathering between my legs as he presses his hips upward. The fabric of his low slung, gray sweats rubs against me and I know when I get off of him, there will be a spot of it soaked in my own juices.
“You kidnapped me.”
“I did.”
“You hurt me.”
Braxton’s hands clench against me. “I did,” he repeats.
“You fucked me.”
“And you liked it.”
Fuck him. He’s right. I did like it. A part of me hadn’t wanted to, but he was the fucking best I’d ever had. In my short realm of experience, no man had ever taken me to the same depths, to the same edges as Braxton had. It’d been more than a physical fuck. It’d been a mindfuck as well. As bad as he is, he made me realize something about myself.
I liked the pain.
And I liked giving it as well.
About Lucy
Lucy Smoke/Lucinda Dark suffers from severe wanderlust and enjoys people watching to find her next character. Who knows, maybe you’re in one of her stories as well.
Author of new adult, reverse harem, and dark romance, Lucy Smoke/Lucinda Dark switches between subgenres, but focuses the primary themes of her novels on strong heroines and romance.
She lives and works in the south with her beloved puppy, Hiro, and enjoys teasing the life out of her all of her friends.
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Taboo
Lucy Smoke, also known as Lucinda Dark for her fantasy works, has a master’s degree in English and is a self-proclaimed creative chihuahua. She enjoys feeding her wanderlust, cover addiction, as well as her face, and truly hopes people will stop giving her bath bombs as gifts. Bath’s get cold too fast and it’s just not as wonderful as the commercials make it out to be when the tub isn’t a jacuzzi. 
Kay Daniels Romance 