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That’s right, our pa, Trevor Butcher, most feared man on all the streets of London town and all-round fucking tyrant had been taken out by bad cholesterol and tachycardia while taking a shit. Fucking tragic that.
I was the kind of cracked in the head that made people keep the fuck away from me, stay outa my damn way and mark a cross over their hearts when I passed them by.
Danny on the other hand was the kind of cracked in the head which meant his brains had spilled into a puddle on the floor and he’d lost a lot of the important stuff. Like impulse control, empathy and the appreciation for the cuteness of puppies over the desire to see their insides.
The Butcher boys. Fucked in the head and just plain terrifying.
A wise man had once told me that it was better to show up late than not at all and that all souls waited for important men anyway.
My twin brother and me. A pair of demons born into power on the streets of fair lady London.
No one crossed the Butchers. No one.
“Yes and you are such a big, scary commander man,” I said, nodding as I fluttered my lashes.
Obey? I didn’t obey. Obedience was for dogs and boring people. Not wives. Certainly not twenty first century wives, even if they were sold into marriage like we were living in the eighteen hundreds.
Turned out, you could threaten a girl into a dress, but you couldn’t change the colour of her soul. Mine was grey, like the colour of steel or concrete or the eternal nothingness of my waking life.
My ability to show up and pretend I was a warm-blooded creature with a soul had become my greatest asset, because the moment you believed that, I was at my deadliest.
Men so easily dismissed our gender in this cutthroat world of gangs and bloodshed, believing the meat swinging between their thighs made them somehow more powerful than us. But strength didn’t equal power. Power could be quiet, unassuming, power could creep into your bed and slit your belly open without you ever seeing it coming. That was the downfall of arrogant men. Assuming women weren’t a threat to their grand empires.
I am your death and I am flying towards you on metal wings, Butcher.
I’d upgraded from men when I found my soulmate in the form of a vibrator.
So this guy might have been as hot as the inner rings of hell, but as he wasn’t pink, rubber and built in with twenty five different pulsation settings, he wasn’t my type.
“Well she’s got fuckable lips, but does she have good music taste?”
“Yeah, her face is a ten out of ten, but her tits could be a four. I can’t tell, they’re hiding in a Van Halen t-shirt like two whack-a-moles. Want me to check?”
“Watch the road!” I yelled, my heart thrashing. “What road?” he asked through a smirk, driving even faster as we came up towards a sharp corner. “Ohhh that road.”
I was taking on the Devil with a teaspoon. And it looked like I was on my own.
I tasted his next words more than I heard them, the brush of his lips against mine like the seven sins combined. It was as terrifying as it was thrilling, and I found myself surprisingly drawn to the darkness I saw lurking in his eyes.
“You’re ours now, Miss America. Branded, bought and sold. Butcher might put a ring on you tomorrow, but I’ll always be your watcher, the one who keeps an eye on every move you make at every minute of the day. And if you think I don’t see the plan to run away swirling in your pretty onyx eyes, you’re so very fucking wrong, darlin’. There’s a treaty to uphold and I take that as serious as a chip butty on a Sunday, you get me?”
What the fuck is a ch...
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“Look, beautiful, I need a little helping hand here, see? My girl’s halfway through an audiobook about a chick who gets abducted by an alien with a tentacle dick and she’ll listen to it without the headphones all night long if I don’t get her new ones. I mean, sure, I’m happy for her to come climbing onto my cock at three am sobbing because the tentacle bloke almost died, and I’ll even let her paint me blue before she rides me like a horny space cadet that needs breeding, but I got work to do before then. Can’t you just slip these little broken ones into the trash, hand me a new pair and I’ll
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“Mrs Potts is an insult to Brits.
“Chip’s a little cunt too,”
“When you smile, it’s hard to remember I despise you, Miss America,”
“Oh my god, she’s like a wild antelope with the eyes of an angry bear. I simply adore her,”
“You’re in safe hands. They don’t call me the Fairy Godmother for nothing. I’m about to bibbity-bobbity-boo your fine arse.”
“I’m an Aquarius,” I said, amusement flickering through me. “And I don’t believe in star signs.” “Oh my god, that’s such an Aquarius thing to say,”
“Wow, your pores are like tiny little ant’s anuses, how do you get them so tight?”
“I like riling you, honey, it makes your eyes twinkle. At least you’ll look ravishing walking down the aisle. Mmhmm, all that rage is gonna make you sparkle like a unicorn fart.”
He was my end, my captor, my fucking fiancé.
I was a Volkov, and I’d face a dragon with a pen knife if I had to – or a mobster with a toilet brush as it so happened.
“Tears ain’t cheap, love. And I want all of yours. Every last one.”
If Vegas was the City of Sin, then this was the City of Power. And I liked the way it made me feel, the way it seemed to welcome me home like a queen arriving in her court.
“Why are raging motherfuckers so hot?” “Because nice guys will judge you if you ask them to choke you, a bad guy does it for free,”
I said ‘I’ll kill you’ in that kiss, while he said ‘I’ll fuck you raw’ with his.
I’d always been adventurous in bed, but I hadn’t ever had anyone watch me get off with another man.
voyeur fetish.
Danny emerged from my skirt with his lips wet, his hair fucked up and a gleam in his eyes that made my heart judder. Fuck, he looked powerful, the creator of my ruin. He’d set an entire forest fire in my flesh, reducing me to ash.
“You were always meant to be mine,” he growled almost to himself then thrust into me with an unforgiving move that filled me deeper than I’d ever been filled, my fingers biting into the couch as I held myself up and took all he had to offer.
I was a cock blinded wife who’d let her monstrous husband fuck the senses clean out of her. And I could never, ever let it happen again.
"Were you aiming for my throat?" I growled, knowing I'd only avoided that because I'd been rearing away from her when she'd tried to break my fucking nose with her forehead. "No, I was just trying to butter some bread and my knife slipped," she deadpanned. I stared at her for a long moment before a laugh spilled from my lips and I leaned back, releasing my grip on her wrists as I knelt over her hips.
“When monsters come to the edge of your bed, it’s a good idea to look ‘em in the eye. That way, they’re less likely to eat you up.”
“I’m gonna make you come so hard you divorce Russia and America then pledge your allegiance to all things British,” he said, chuckling darkly.
The brand placed there by Danny still stung sharply, but what hurt the most was the shame I felt from Church finding it. I tried to twist around but he was suddenly on his feet at my back, his hand latching around my wrist to keep me from turning. “Danny,” he growled like that name was as worthy as soot on his tongue.
“Bullshit,” I snapped, glancing back at him and finding him dropping down to kneel behind me, my heart lurching into my throat at the sight. He reared forward and pressed his mouth to the brand, the kiss hurting as much as it soothed. It was wrong, forbidden, and it made me so wet that I nearly moaned.
“You have entered my life like a fuckin’ meteorite, Anya Volkov. I can still count the hours I’ve known you and somehow you’ve possessed my thoughts in every single one of them,” he said with grit to his tone.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Church,” I said coolly. “That’s the problem, Anya,” he said seriously and I studied him from the corner of my eye as his hands tightened on the wheel. “I think I wanna know everything.”

