Dire Bound (The Wolves of Ruin, #1)

by Sable Sorensen

there’s one thing I’ve learned in my twenty-three years alive, it’s this: Women in pain give men confidence.

Good for you, I want to snark back at him, bristling at his imperious tone. And I’m the Queen of Shit Mountain.

Sure, because who wouldn’t follow a brutal massacre with a fancy ball?

Maybe there’d even be some animal bones he and his wolf were gnawing on together. Bonding, you know?

He’s a killing machine. That’s obviously why he has a soft-looking blanket draped over the arm of his chair. Because even killing machines get cold… apparently.

And in case my implication is not crystal fucking clear: You touch her again and I’ll cull you myself.”

“Give me the word and I’ll tear out his throat. All the lives I’ve ever taken were just training for this moment, my queen. Make me your instrument of vengeance. Let my hands act out your every savage, depraved thought. Use me. I’m yours.”

Mine. My psycho asshole. My bloodthirsty killer.