Published by Hachette Book Group Publication Date: July 7th 2015
Pages: 416
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"We met in a nightmare. The in-between world where time had no power over reason. We fell in love. We fell hard. But then we woke up. And it was over . . ."RUIN & RULEShe is a woman divided. Her past, present, and future are as twisted as the lies she's lived for the past eight years. Desperate to get the truth, she must turn to the one man who may also be her greatest enemy . . . He is the president of Pure Corruption MC. A heartless biker and retribution-deliverer. He accepts no rules, obeys no one, and lives only to reap revenge on those who wronged him. And now he has stolen her, body and soul.Can a woman plagued by mystery fall in love with the man who refuses to face the truth? And can a man drenched in darkness forgo his quest for vengeance-and finally find redemption?
This was my first Pepper Winters’ book and if I said I was nervous that would be only slightly the truth. Β I was a bit weary and apprehensive. Β I usually stay within my genres and favorite authors and don’t delve into gritty, dark, books but I trusted my book friends (thanks ladies) and dove in. Β I loved it. Β Every single chapter. Β I was hooked and couldn’t put it down.
Ruin & RuleΒ is a story of vengeance and the kind of love that you only experience once in lifetime. Β The kind that wrecks you, changes you and never leaves you. Β Arthur “Kill” Killian is on a mission to bring down the people who ruined his life and killed the love of his life so long ago. Β He is broken to the point that you wonder if Ms. Winters will be able to put him back together again. Β He is the President of an MC who seems to have no remorse for any of his actions. His actions are razor sharp and focused and he doesn’t care what it takes to get to his end game.
The book opens with MC business taking place and it is brutal. Β Ms. Winters dives right into the topic of human trafficking and she takes you on a ride. Β You see all of this throughΒ Sarah/Cleo’s POV. Β She wakes up in a strange place not knowing even her name and quickly understanding that she is a world of trouble. Β She is one of the girls being trafficked. Β She can’t understand how she even ended up in this situation and how she is going to get out. Β The minute she meets Kill she feels a connection. Β What can that be? Β How could she know him? Β The questions go on and on in this one until the last page.
I don’t want to give too much away because you really need to read this one. Β I kept turning page after page trying to figure out where this story was going. Β I talked it out with my husband. Β Any guesses I had wasn’t close to where Ms. Winters ended up taking me. Β She throws curveball after curveball and I now can understand why she has such loyal fans.
As far as dark, I didn’t think this one was too dark but what she did deliver was a fast paced, crazy, thrill ride! Β I will be picking up more of Ms. Winter’s books and I can’t wait to see where Kill and Cleo’s story is going. Β I can say I am a Pepper Winters fan now…another go to author!
Meet Killian in Pepper Winterβs new MC Romance!
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Prologue
We met in a nightmare.
The in-between world where time had no power over rhyme, reason, or connection. We met. We stared. We knew.
There was no distortion from the outside world. No right or wrong. No confusion or battles from hearts and minds.
Just us. In our silent dreamworld.
That nightmare became our home. Planting ghosts, raising fantasies. Entwined together in our happily skewed reality.
We fell in love. We fell hard.
In those fleeting seconds of our nightmare, we lived an eternity.
But then we woke up.
And it was over.
Chapter One
I always believed life would grant rewards to those most worthy. I was fucking naΓ―ve. Life doesnβt rewardβit ruins. It ruins those most deserving and takes everything. It takes everything all while watching any remaining goodness rot to hate.
βKill
[ORN_SB]
Darkness.
That was my world now. Literally and physically.
The back of my skull hurt from being knocked unconscious. My wrists and shoulders ached from lying on my back with my hands tied behind me.
Nothing was brokenβat least it didnβt feel that wayβbut everything was bruised. The fuzziness receded wisp by wisp, parting the clouds of sleep, trying to shed light on whatβd happened. But there was no light. My eyes blinked at the endless darkness from the mask tied around my head. Anxiety twisted my stomach at having such a fundamental gift taken away.
I didnβt move, but mentally catalogued my body from the tips of my toes to the last strand of hair on my head. My jaw and tongue ached from the foul rag stuffed in my mouth and my nose permitted a shallow stream of oxygen to enterβjust enough to keep me alive.
Fear tried to claw its way through my mind, but I shoved it away. I deliberately suppressed panic in order to assess my predicament rather than lose myself to terror.
Fear never helps, only hinders.
My senses came back, creeping tentatively, as if afraid whoever had stolen me would notice their return.
Sound: the squeak of brakes, the creak of a vehicle settling from motion to stopping.
Touch: the skin on my right forearm stung, throbbing with a mixture of soreness and sharpness. A burn perhaps?
Smell: dank rotting vegetables and the astringent, pungent scent of fearβbut it wasnβt mine. It was theirs.
It wasnβt just me being kidnapped.
My heart flurried, drinking in their terror. It made my breath quicken and legs itch to run. Forcing myself to ignore the outside world, I focused inward. Clutching my inner strength where calmness was a need rather than a luxury.
I refused to lose myself in a fog of tears. Desperation was a curse and I wouldnβt succumb, because I had every intention of being prepared for what might happen next.
I hated the sniffles and stifled sobs of others around me. Their bleak sadness tugged at my heartstrings, making me fight with my own preservation, replacing it with concern for theirs.
Get through this, then worry about them.
I didnβt think this was a simple opportunistic snatch. Whoever had stolen me planned it. The hunch grew stronger as I searched inside for any liquor remnants or the smell of cigarettes.
Had I been at a party? Nightclub?
Nothing.
I hadnβt been stupid or reckless. I thinkβ¦
No hint or clue as to where Iβd been or what Iβd been doing when theyβd come for me.
I wriggled, trying to move away from the stench. My bound wrists protested, stinging as the rope around them gnawed into my flesh like twine-beasts. My ribs bellowed, along with my head. There was no give in my restraints. I stopped trying to move, preserving my energy.
I tried to swallow.
No saliva.
I tried to speak.
No voice.
I tried to remember what happened.
I tried to rememberβ¦
Panic.
Nothing.
I canβt remember.
βGet up, bitch,β a man said. Something jabbed me in the ribs. βWonβt tell you again. Get.β
I froze as my mind hurtled me from present to past.
Iβll miss you so much,β she wailed, hugging me tighter.
βIβm not dying, you know.β I tried to untangle myself, looking over my shoulder at the final call flashing for my flight. I hated being late for anything. Let alone my one chance at escaping and finding out the truth once and for all.
βCall me the moment you get there.β
βPromise.β I drew a cross over my heartβ
The memory shattered as my horizontal body suddenly went vertical in one swoop.
Who was that girl? Why did I have no memory of it ever happening?
βI said get up, bitch.β The man breathed hard in my ear, sending a waft of reeking breath over me. The blindfold stole my sight, but it left my nose woefully unprotected.
Unfortunately.
My captor shoved me forward. The ground was steady beneath my feet. The sickness plaiting with my confusion faded, leaving me cold.
My legs stumbled in the direction he wanted me to go. I hated shuffling in the darkness, not knowing where I came from or where I was being herded. There were no sounds of comfort or smothered snickers. This wasnβt a masquerade.
This was real.
This is real.
My heart thudded harder, fear slipping through my defenses. But full-blown terror remained elusive. Slippery like a silver fish, darting on the outskirts of my mind. It was there but fleeting, keeping me clear-headed and strong.
I was grateful for that. Grateful that I maintained what dignity I had leftβremaining strong even in the face of the unknown terrors lurking on the other side of my blindfold.
Moans and whimpers of other women grew in decibels as men ordered them to follow the same path I walked. Either death row or salvation, I had no choice but to inch my way forward, leaving my forgotten past behind.
I willed snippets to come back. I begged the puzzlement of my past to slot into place, so I could make sense of this horrible world Iβd awoken in.
But my mind was locked to me. A fortress withholding everything I wished to know.
The pushing stopped. So did I.
Big mistake.
βMove.β A cuff to the back of my head sent me wheeling forward. I didnβt stop again. My bare feet traversedβ¦wood?
Bare feet?
Where are my shoes?
The missing knowledge twisted my stomach.
Where did I come from?
How did I end up here?
Whatβs my name?
It wasnβt the terror of the unknown future that stole my false calmness. It was the fear of losing my very self. Theyβd stolen everything. My triumphs, my trespasses, my accomplishments and failures.
How could I deal with this new world if I didnβt know what skills I had to stay alive? How could I hope to defeat my enemy when my mind revolted and locked me out?
Who am I?
To have who I was deletedβ¦It was unthinkable.
βFaster, bitch.β Something cold wedged against my spine, pushing me onward. With my hands behind my back, I shuffled faster, negotiating the ground as best I could for dips or trips.
βStep down.β The man grabbed my bound wrists, giving me something to lean against as my toes navigated the small steps before me.
βAgain.β
I obeyed.
βLast one.β
I managed the small staircase without falling flat on my face.
My face.
What do I look like?
A loud scraping noise sounded before me. I shied back, bumping against a feminine form. The woman behind me cried outβthe first verbal sound of another.
βMove.β The pressure on my lower back came again, and I obeyed. Inching forward until the stuffy air of old vegetables and must was replaced byβ¦copper and metallicβ¦blood?
Whyβ¦why is that so familiar?
I gasped as my mind free-fell into another memory.
βI donβt think I can do this.β I darted away, throwing up in the rubbish bin in the classroom. The unique stench of blood curdled my stomach.
βDonβt overthink it. Itβs not what youβre doing to the animal to make it bleed. Itβs what youβre doing to make it live.β My professor shook his head, waiting for me to swill out my mouth and return white-faced and queasy to the operation in progress.
My heart splintered like a broken piece of glass, reflecting the compassion and responsibility I felt for such an innocent creature. This little puppy thatβd been dumped in a plastic bag to die after being shot with BB gun pellets. Heβd survive only if I mastered the skills to stem his internal bleeding and embrace the vocation I was called to do.
Inhaling the scent of blood, I let it invade my nostrils, scald my throat, and impregnate my soul. I drank its coppery essence. I drenched myself in the smell of the creatureβs life force until it no longer affected me.
Picking up a scalpel, I said, βIβm readyββ
βHoly fuck!β The man guiding me forward suddenly whacked the base of my spine. The hard pain shoved me forward and I tripped.
βWireβget me fucking reinforcements. Heβs started a motherfucking war!β
Wind and body motion swarmed me as men charged from behind. The darkness I lived in suddenly came alive with sound.
Bullets flew, impaling themselves into the metal sides of the vehicle Iβd just stepped from. Pings and ricochets echoed in my ear. Curses bellowed; moans of pain threaded like a breeze.
Someone grabbed my arm, swinging me to the side. βGet down!β The inertia of his throw knocked me off balance. With my wrists bound together, I had nothing to grab with, no way to protect myself from falling.
I fell.
My stomach swooped as tumbled off a small platform and smashed against the ground.
Dirt, damp grass, and moldy leaves replaced the stench of blood, cutting through the cloying sharpness of spilled metallic. My mouth opened, gasping in pain. Blades of grass tickled my lips as my cheek stuck to wet mud.
My shoulder screamed with agony, but I ignored the new injury. My mind clung to the unlocked memory. The fleeting recollection of my profession.
Iβm a vet.
The sense of homecoming and security that one little snippet brought was priceless. My soul snarled for more, suddenly ravenous for missing information.
I skipped straight from fumbling uncertainty into starvation for more.
Tell me! Show me. Who am I?
I searched inside for more clues. But it was like trying to grab on to an elusive dream, fading faster and faster the harder I chased.
I couldnβt remember anything about medicine or how to heal. All I knew was Iβd been trained to embrace the scent of blood. I wasnβt afraid of it. I didnβt faint or suffer sickness at the sight of it pouring from an open wound.
That tiniest knowledge was enough to settle my prickling nerves and focus on the outside world again.
Battle cries. Men screaming. Men growling. The dense thuds of fists on flesh and the horrible deflection of gunshots.
I couldnβt understand. Had I fallen through time and entered an alternate dimension?
Another body landed on top of mine.
I cried out, winded from a sharp poke of an elbow to my ribs.
The figure rolled away, crying softly. Feminine.
Why arenβt I crying?
I once again searched for fear. It wasnβt natural not to be afraid. Iβd woken up alone, stolen, and thrown into the middle of a war, yet I wasnβt hyperventilating or panicked.
My calmness was like a drug, oozing over me, muting the sharp starkness of my situation. It was bearable if I embraced courage and the knowledge that I was strong.
My hands balled, grateful for the thought. I didnβt know who I was, but it didnβt matter, because the person who I was in this moment mattered the most.
I had to remain segmented, so I could get through whatever was about to happen. All I had was gut instinct, quiet strength, and rationality. Everything else had been taken.
βStop fighting, you fucking idiots!β
The loud growl rumbled like an earthquake, hushing the battle in one fell swoop. Whoever had spoken had power.
Immense power. Colossal power.
A shiver darted over my skin.
βWhat the fuck happened? Have you lost your goddamn lovinβ mind?β a man yelled.
A sound of a short scuffle, then the fresh whiff of tilled dirt graced my nose.
βItβs done. Throw down your weapons and bend a fucking knee.β The same earthquake rumbled. The weight of his command pushed me harder against the damp ground.
βIβm not bending nothing, you asshole. You arenβt my Prez!β
βI am. Have been for the past four years.β
βYouβre not. Youβre his bitch. Donβt think his power is yours.β
Another fightβmuffled fists and kicks. It ended swiftly with a painful groan.
The earthquake voice came again. βOpen your eyes and follow the red fucking river. Your chosenβthe one you hand-picked to slaughter me and take over the Clubβheβs dead. Did you ever stop to think Wallstreet made me Prez for a fucking reason?β
Another moan.
βIβm the chosen one. Iβm the one who knows the family secrets, absorbed the legacy, and earned his way into power. You donβt know shit. Nobody does. So bend a fucking knee and respect.β
Another tremor ran down my back.
Silence for a time, apart from the squelch of boots and heavy breathing. Then a barely muttered curse. βYouβll die. One way or another, we wonβt put up with a Dagger as a Prez. Weβre the Corrupts, goddammit. Having a traitor rule us is a fucking joke.β
βIβm the traitor? The man who obeys your leader? Who guides in his stead? Iβm the traitor when you try and rally my brothers in a war?β A heavy thud of a fist connected with flesh. βNoβ¦Iβm not. You are.β
My mind raced, sucking up noises and forming wild conclusions of what happened before me. Was this World War Three? Was this the apocalypse of the life I couldnβt remember? No matter how I pieced it together, I couldnβt make sense of anything.
The air was thick with anticipation. I didnβt know how many men stood before me. I didnβt know how many corpses littered the ground, or how such violence could be permitted in the world I used to know. But I did know the cease-fire was fragile and any moment it would explode.
A single threat slithered through the grass like a snake. βIβll kill you, motherfucker. Mark my words. The true Corrupts are just waiting to take you out.β
The gentle foot-thuds of someone large vibrated through the ground. βThe Corrupts havenβt existed for four fucking years. The moment I took the seat, itβs been Pure Corruption all the way. And youβre not fucking pure enough for this Club. Youβre done.β
I flinched as the sulfuric boom of a gun ripped through the stagnant air.
A crash as a body fell lifeless to the grass. A soft puff of a soul escaping.
Murder.
Murder was committed right before me.
The inherent need to nurture and healβthe part of me that was as steadfast as the beat of my heartβwept with regret.
Death was something Iβd fought against on a daily basis, but now I was weaponless.
I hated that a life had been stolen right before me. That I hadnβt been able to stop it.
Iβm a witness.
And yet, Iβd witnessed nothing.
Iβd been privy to a battle but seen nothing. Knew no one. I would never be able to tell who shot whom, or who was right and who was wrong.
My hands shook, even though I managed to stay eerily calm. Am I in shock? And if I was, how did I cure myself?
The woman beside me curled into a ball, her knees digging into my side. My first reaction was to repel away from the touch. I didnβt know who was friend or foe. But a second reaction came quickly; the urge to share my calmnessβto let her know that no matter what happened, she wasnβt alone. We faced the same futureβno matter how grim.
Voices cascaded over us, whispers mainly, quickly spoken orders. Every sound was heightened. Being robbed of sight made my body seek other ways in which to find clues.
βGet rid of the bodies before daybreak.β
βWeβll go back and make sure weβre still covered.β
βSend out the word. Itβs over. The Prez wonβno anarchy today.β
Each voice was distinct but my ears twitched only for one: the earthquake rumble that set my skin quivering like quicksand.
He hadnβt spoken since heβd condemned someone to death and pulled the trigger. Every second of not hearing him made my heart trip faster. I wasnβt afraid. I should be. I should be immobile with fear. But he invoked something in meβsomething primal. Just like I knew I was female and a vet, I knew his voice meant something. Every inch of me tensed, waiting for him to speak. It was wrong to crave the voice of a killer, but it was the only thing I wanted.
Needed.
I need to know who he is.
Wet mud sucked loudly against boots as they came closer.
The woman whimpered, but I angled my chin toward the sound, wishing my eyes were uncovered.
I wanted to see. I wanted to witness the carnage before me. Because it was carnage. The stench of death confirmed it. It was morbid to want to see such destruction, but without my sight all of this seemed like a terrible nightmare. Nothing was groundedβcompletely nonsensical and far too strange.
I needed proof that this was real.
I needed concrete evidence that I wasnβt mad. That my body was intact, even if my mind was not.
I sucked in a breath as warm fingers touched my cheek, angling my face upward and out of the mud. Strong hands caressed the back of my skull, fumbling with my blindfold.
The anticipation of finally getting my wish to see made me stay still and cooperative in his hold.
I didnβt say a word or move. I just waited. And breathed. And listened.
The manβs breath was heavy and low, interspersed with a quick catch of pain. His fingers were swift and sure, but unable to hide the small fumble of agony.
Heβs hurt.
The pressure of the blindfold suddenly released, trading opaque darkness for a new kind of gloom.
Night sky. Moonshine. Stars above.
Anchors of a world I knew, but no recognition of the dark-shrouded industrial estate where blood gleamed silver-black and corpses dotted the field.
Iβm alive.
I can see.
The joy at having my eyes freed came and went as blazing as a comet.
Then my life ended as our gazes connected.
Green to green.
I have green eyes.
Down and down I spiraled, deeper and deeper into his clutches.
My lifeβpast, present, and futureβlost all purpose the second I stared into his soul.
The fear Iβd been missing slammed into my heart.
I quivered. I quaked.
Something howled deep inside with age-old knowledge.
Every part of me arched toward him, then shied away in terror.
Him.
A nightmare come to life.
A nightmare I wanted to live.
If life was a tapestry, already threaded and steadfast, then he was the scissors that cut me free. He tore me out, stole me away, changed the whole prophecy of who I was meant to be.
Jaw-length dark hair, tangled and sweaty, framed a square jaw, straight nose, and full lips. His five-oβclock stubble held remnants of war, streaked with dirt and blood. But it was his eyes that shot a quivering arrow into my heart, spreading his emerald anger.
He froze, his body curving toward mine. Blistering hope flickered across his features. His mouth fell open and love so achingly deep glowed in his gaze. βWhatββ A leg gave out, making him kneel beside me. His hands shook as he cupped my face, his fingers digging painfully into my cheekbones. βItβs notββ
My heart raced. Yes.
βYou know me,β I breathed.
The moment my voice webbed around us, storm clouds rolled over the sunshine in his face, blackening the hope and replacing it with pure hatred.
He changed from watching me like I was his angel to glowering as if I were a despicable devil.
I shivered at the changeβat the iciness and hardness. He breathed hard, his chest rising and falling. His lips parted, a rumbling command falling from his mouth to my ears. βStand up. Youβre mine now.β
When I didnβt move, his hand landed on my side. His touch was blocked by clothing but I felt it everywhere. He stroked my soul, tickled my heart, and caressed every cell with fingers that despised me.
I couldnβt suck in a proper breath.
With a vicious push, he rolled me over, and with a sharp blade sliced my bindings. With effortless power, so thrilling and terrifying, he hauled me to my feet.
I didnβt sway. I didnβt cry. Only pulled the disgusting gag from my mouth and stared in silence.
I stared up, up, up into his bright green eyes, understanding something I shouldnβt understand.
This was him.
My nightmare.
Pepper Winters wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex… her books have sex.
She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends.
Her Dark Erotica books include:
Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)
Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)
Her Grey Romance books include:
Destroyed
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