I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC, #2)

by C.M. Stunich

“In nature, there are neither rewards nor punishments—there are consequences.”

I’m not sure, what, exactly, I wanted from these men, but apathy was not it.

I woke up that next morning with hope, this foreign, sticky thing that causes more harm than good. Hope does not get you anywhere but to the ass-end of disappointment.

Reveling in ruin, in sin, wanting for glory.

“Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I’ve a call,”

but permission from a place of submission is often just coercion at its finest.

Guess Cat was right when he said they were already afraid of me. Good for them. They should be.

And definitely not getting my brains fucked out. Mostly, it’s because we’re all exhausted. By the time I get upstairs and collapse in bed, I’m half-asleep. Same with the guys. Grainger actually fell asleep in the chair near the fire and got his ass chewed out by Crown last night. That doesn’t mean, however, that I wouldn’t be down for a nooner. Or a three PMer. Or a whenever-the-fuck fuck.