Butcher & Blackbird puts the “cream” in ice cream, and the romance in dark romance

The tears in Sloane’s eyes shift and shine as they gather at her lash line. “I am not unlovable.” She jabs her bloody finger in my direction, punctuating every word. “I am very fucking lovable.”

Again and again, certain books come to me when I need them most. I’m a survivor of sexual assault. I couldn’t even start processing the things that were done to me until a different traumatic event occurred in 2015 and my therapist diagnosed me with complex PTSD. The other day, I ran into one of my abusers (almost literally), and it sent me into a bit of a spiral. I processed it over a few days, going through all sorts of emotions. Then I needed a distraction—a safe distraction.

This is why trigger warnings are so important. I get that for some readers, a list of TWs can look like spoilers and, for others, triggers are more like tropes, in that they purposely look for books featuring specific triggers—reading certain triggers can help some survivors process traumatic events. For some survivors, though, those lists are lifelines.

I’ve long struggled to find my place in dark romance, as both a reader and writer. I’ve read romances marketed as lighthearted rom-coms that opened with graphic rape scenes or contained disturbing plot twists that you’d need therapy for IRL. These triggers can be so validating in some readers’ healing journeys, while detrimental to others. This is why I believe trigger warnings are necessary; readers who don’t need them can ignore them, and readers who do need them can utilize them.

I can’t tell author Brynne Weaver how much I appreciate her not only having a content warnings section on her website, but also for writing spicy romance that is always consensual. For me, this is imperative whether I’m reading dark or light romance. I’m super cautious about the books I read, and having an extensive list of CWs helped me decide to give Butcher & Blackbird a shot. (So did this blog post and this Amazon review.)

I’m seeing a trend that’s fascinating me. [In some dark romances] we get strong, vulnerable, and resilient women who take the abuses and transgressions of life and channel them to move on and become these [badass] warrior women who fight for the voiceless victimized who cannot speak [nor] stand for themselves. While viewed by many as just smut, these types of books have the potential to do incredible collective trauma healing work surround women’s issues of SA, assault, and violence. So read all the smut you love, because you may be healing the traumas of yourself, your community, and your ancestors!

Amazon reader

(I really want to talk more about how healing dark romance is, but this is supposed to be a review, so I’ll stay on topic!)

So I went in, cautiously, eyes wide open for the two TWs I might have an issue with due to my own history, poised to skip or put the book aside altogether, if need be. I didn’t have to do either of those things.

Butcher & Blackbird is funny. I was chuckling just reading the excerpt (Chapter 1). Weaver is flawless in her balance of dark subjects with perfectly timed humor and well-written gore. I’ve read a lot of dark romances that lean heavily on shock value but with very little substance, and with more smut than romance; they’d be more appropriately filed in horror. Butcher & Blackbird isn’t like that. There’s heart and warmth to it. There’s real romance—actual swoony moments that had me forgetting about the bodies that needed hiding. Moments that had me tearily “Aw”- and “Oh”-ing out loud the same I would if I were reading cute small town romance. Just with lobotomies.

I point to the not-so-good doctor, whose blood trickles down his face in drying streaks. “Left eye hole. Always a little gouge-y.”

Maybe it’s because my IRL “book boyfriend” is a man who knows how to love a traumatized woman, but I have such a love for this trope in dark romance. Rowan doesn’t need push around Sloane for us to know he’s tortured. He doesn’t swing his dick around to tell us he’s strong. He takes Sloane pretending not to know who he is in stride. He gives her space and time, patiently and intentionally earning her trust. When it comes to sex, he’s giving, cognizant of her need for safety but also not afraid to dick her down. Their dynamic reminds me a lot of my own, IRL, and gave me another safe space that I desperately needed, while also giving me an escape from the real world.

In the end, Rowan and Sloane come together to heal from their pasts—another aspect of dark romance that I have big love for. After all, we’re talking romance; love can and does conquer all. The ending had me smiling so big, and I loved that Weaver didn’t just dump us off—she gave us an epilogue that connected to the next book in the series, plus a bonus epilogue that gave us a sweet happily ever after that was so very fitting to these characters.

I loved this book so much, I could go on and on—I loved and strongly related to Sloane being a lone wolf with one best friend, and as a horror fan I really enjoyed the gore and almost episodic serial killer segments. I know Weaver didn’t write this book for me, per se, but man, it really felt like it. It was just what I needed, reminding me that no matter the things I’ve been through, the beauty I have in my life far outweighs the ugly.

“You have never been unlovable. You were just waiting for someone who will love you for who you are, not for who they want you to be. I can do that, if you’ll let me.” I press my lips to hers and taste salt and blood but pull away before the kiss deepens. “I fucking adore you, Sloane Sutherland. I wanted you from that first day at Briscoe’s. I have loved you for years. I’m not stopping. Not ever.”

Check it Out

If you liked A Disturbing Prospect, you’ll like Butcher & Blackbird. Like Olivia and Cliff, the lead couple punishes abusers together, the romance is an achingly sweet slow burn, and the story is fast-paced with plenty of thrills and delicious darkness.