by Emma Slate
(A SINS of the Rex Prequel Novella)
Igor Dolinsky wasn’t always an evil bastard. He wasn’t always his father’s son.
Betrayal and blood shaped his destiny and thrust him into a world of vengeance.
Gone was the man, in his place, a monster.
Villain born or villain made, the result is the same.
Shrewd. Cold. Brutal.
Igor Dolinsky is RUTHLESS.
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2mWbi9K
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2nmmaxq
Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2mEAOSc
Amazon AU: http://amzn.to/2ngkBEc
He had never needed a woman more than he needed one right then. He didn’t care what she looked like, how old she was, or if she found him attractive.
His body throbbed with pain and blood lust. He leaned against the cool wall of the dressing room and closed his eyes. He needed a woman before the pain settled into him and rendered him useless.
He lifted his bloody, bruised limbs from the wall and turned.
Maryruth stood a few feet from him. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the bright lights overhead made her look pale. Or maybe she was pale because all the blood had drained from her face.
“What are you doing here?” he rasped. His gaze left her eyes to drag down her body. She wore a pair of dark jeans, flats, a peacoat. Completely out of place in a sinner’s den.
He wanted to drag his tongue along the column of her throat, taste her skin, mar it with his blood. The primitive picture took hold of him until he was reaching for her. He forced his hands down.
“Get out,” he gritted.
“Let me help you.” Her eyes widened as she pled.
“You’ll hurt too, if you stay.”
She took a step closer. “You need me.”
He didn’t correct her.
“You need me the way a man needs a woman.” Her eyes dropped to the bulge in his shorts. “So take me.”
“I’ve never done anything the way other people do,” he said. “I’ve always been different that way. I spent years fighting, trying to be something I wasn’t. You know what I learned? Who cares? People judge. Fuck them. You get one life. How are you going to live it?”
They faced one another, their breaths mingling, a shaft of moonlight giving them just enough light to see outlines and curves.
Maryruth rolled on top of him and stripped off her shirt. Leaning over, she grazed her lips against his. “Show me how to live, Igor.”
Emma writes romantic suspense. Usually dark. Usually with cliffhangers. Always with a lot of sex. She makes a wicked vodka gimlet. Autumn is her favorite season. She loves Friends but hates Rachel. She also thinks Chandler is amazing, but Monica should’ve chosen Richard. She loves hearing your thoughts on fictional people.