Meet Killian in Pepper Winter’s new MC Romance!
NOW AVAILABLE
SYNOPSIS
"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 & RULE
She
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?
"Ruin
& Rule is a full-length book at 436 pages and ends on a
cliffhanger. Cleo and Kill's story continues in SIN & SUFFER."
REVIEW
Ruin & Rule by
Pepper Winters
Kat's rating:
4 of 5 stars
*** Gifted by the Publisher via Net Galley for an honest Review***
I
have decided to name our main female character '6th' as I don't want to
spoil it for the readers, I think it made it a better read for me
because I didn't know her name until she remembered it.
I Liked the book but I have rated it a 4 star because it took till 40% before I lost the urge to give up...
I
guess it is hard to get into a character who is an amnesiac, and the
story is told in the majority of the Female Characters POV, but I kept
putting it down after an hour or so because it wasn't gripping me.
Now
I do like MC books, but after the initial tense moments I felt that the
story wasn't going anywhere and the only reason I kept going is because
of the quality of the writing, and I really wanted to know what had
happened to this strange girl who stood unafraid after being kidnapped
and was about to be sold into the sex slave business. The 'extra' when
only 5 girls were ordered to be kidnapped, we end up with our heroine
being the mysterious '6th' woman.
There is a lot of
unknown questions, you are as lost as the main character and the book
really is a maze of mindfuck as you try to make sense of what has
happened to this poor girl.
As I said earlier the first
few pages were intense, but after Killian takes the '6th' home it
seemed to drag for me it was just the characters baiting each other as
they are caught up in the backdraft of their strange connection, oh and
sex. I really couldn't understand why Killian did not see who '6th' was,
I mean come on - love of his life supposedly died in a fire, the 8
years later here is her doppelganger complete with a half burned body!
But
what I did like is how writing flows, it was descriptive and the way Ms
Winters describes the female characters body when she is stripped...
well lets just say that I would really love to draw that tattoo... well
actually the descriptiveness of Killian's also gives some fodder for the
imagination! Pepper Winters does have a way with creating a dark but
beautiful passages, and that is why I continued.
"The flames of the beasts came out to feast. No priest can save the singed deceased,"
this
sure evokes the imagination, and as we slowly get snippets of the past
filtering through our heroines amnesia. When we think that Killian is
going to sell '6th' to the sick rich fuck I began to wonder if he had a
brain... BUT yay a ray of sunlight saves the day.
I
was surprised that this scene, and how they get of the boat was out of
character for the situation... in most Criminal scenes the rich arrogant
sex slave purchaser would have just shot him and the girl would be .
When Killian finally sees the light and rescues '6th' you would think that we would get to know the truth, but no its a case of
"I will tell you everything, but not now. You have to trust me." I got a bit annoyed with him.
By
the end of the book you begin to see that both the main characters are
pawns in a larger game of strategy, and I didn't want to put the book
down and this is why it ended up being a 4 star.
This
book really only lays down the foundations, and I am sorry to say that
it ends with a HUGE CLIFF HANGER! I was like beginning to fret as the
percentage was creeping up and by 98% I realised I was going to be
wanting to throw my phone at the wall. Luckily there is a sneak peak in
the end of the book - SO Scroll on past the playlist!
I do hope this series is only 2 books as I have read, I don't like storylines being dragged out for the sake of more books.
But I do want to know whether Killian gets his revenge and what Rubix has in store for '6th'
View all Kat's reviews
TEASERS
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 naรฏve. Life doesn’t reward—it ruins. It ruins those most
deserving and takes everything. It takes everything all while watching
any remaining goodness rot to hate.
—Kill
****
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 broken—at least it didn’t feel that way—but everything was bruised.
The fuzziness receded wisp by wisp, parting the clouds of sleep, trying
to shed light on what’d 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 didn’t move, but mentally cataloged
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 enter—just 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 fear—but it wasn’t mine. It was theirs.
It wasn’t 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
wouldn’t 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
didn’t 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 hadn’t been stupid or reckless. I think…
No hint or clue as to where I’d been or what I’d been doing when they’d 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 remember…
Panic.
Nothing.
I can’t remember.
“Get up, bitch,” a man said. Something jabbed me in the ribs. “Won’t tell you again. Get.”
I froze as my mind hurtled me from present to past.
I’ll miss you so much,” she wailed, hugging me tighter.
“I’m
not dying, you know.” 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.
“Call me the moment you get there.”
“Promise.” I drew a cross over my heart—
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?
“I
said get up, bitch.” 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
wasn’t 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
left—remaining 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 I’d 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.
“Move.” A cuff to the back of my head sent me wheeling forward. I didn’t stop again. My bare feet traversed…wood?
Bare feet?
Where are my shoes?
The missing knowledge twisted my stomach.
Where did I come from?
How did I end up here?
What’s my name?
It
wasn’t the terror of the unknown future that stole my false calmness.
It was the fear of losing my very self. They’d stolen everything. My
triumphs, my trespasses, my accomplishments and failures.
How
could I deal with this new world if I didn’t 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 deleted…It was unthinkable.
“Faster,
bitch.” 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.
“Step
down.” The man grabbed my bound wrists, giving me something to lean
against as my toes navigated the small steps before me.
“Again.”
I obeyed.
“Last one.”
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 out—the first verbal sound of
another.
“Move.”
The pressure on my lower back came again, and I obeyed. Inching forward
until the stuffy air of old vegetables and must was replaced by…copper
and metallic…blood?
Why…why is that so familiar?
I gasped as my mind free-fell into another memory.
“I
don’t think I can do this.” I darted away, throwing up in the rubbish
bin in the classroom. The unique stench of blood curdled my stomach.
“Don’t
overthink it. It’s not what you’re doing to the animal to make it
bleed. It’s what you’re doing to make it live.” 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 that’d been dumped in a plastic bag to die after being
shot with BB gun pellets. He’d 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 creature’s life force until it no longer affected me.
Picking up a scalpel, I said, “I’m ready—”
“Holy fuck!” The man guiding me forward suddenly whacked the base of my spine. The hard pain shoved me forward and I tripped.
“Wire—get me fucking reinforcements. He’s started a motherfucking war!”
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 I’d 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. “Get down!” 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.
I’m 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
couldn’t remember anything about medicine or how to heal. All I knew
was I’d been trained to embrace the scent of blood. I wasn’t afraid of
it. I didn’t 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 couldn’t 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 aren’t I crying?
I
once again searched for fear. It wasn’t natural not to be afraid. I’d
woken up alone, stolen, and thrown into the middle of a war, yet I
wasn’t 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 didn’t know who I was, but it
didn’t 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.
“Stop fighting, you fucking idiots!”
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.
“What the fuck happened? Have you lost your goddamn lovin’ mind?” a man yelled.
A sound of a short scuffle, then the fresh whiff of tilled dirt graced my nose.
“It’s
done. Throw down your weapons and bend a fucking knee.” The same
earthquake rumbled. The weight of his command pushed me harder against
the damp ground.
“I’m not bending nothing, you asshole. You aren’t my Prez!”
“I am. Have been for the past four years.”
“You’re not. You’re his bitch. Don’t think his power is yours.”
Another fight—muffled fists and kicks. It ended swiftly with a painful groan.
The
earthquake voice came again. “Open your eyes and follow the red fucking
river. Your chosen—the one you hand-picked to slaughter me and take
over the Club—he’s dead. Did you ever stop to think Wallstreet made me
Prez for a fucking reason?”
Another moan.
“I’m
the chosen one. I’m the one who knows the family secrets, absorbed the
legacy, and earned his way into power. You don’t know shit. Nobody does.
So bend a fucking knee and respect.”
Another tremor ran down my back.
Silence
for a time, apart from the squelch of boots and heavy breathing. Then a
barely muttered curse. “You’ll die. One way or another, we won’t put up
with a Dagger as a Prez. We’re the Corrupts, goddammit. Having a
traitor rule us is a fucking joke.”
“I’m
the traitor? The man who obeys your leader? Who guides in his stead?
I’m the traitor when you try and rally my brothers in a war?” A heavy
thud of a fist connected with flesh. “No…I’m not. You are.”
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 couldn’t remember? No matter how I pieced it together, I
couldn’t make sense of anything.
The
air was thick with anticipation. I didn’t know how many men stood
before me. I didn’t 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. “I’ll kill you,
motherfucker. Mark my words. The true Corrupts are just waiting to take
you out.”
The
gentle foot-thuds of someone large vibrated through the ground. “The
Corrupts haven’t existed for four fucking years. The moment I took the
seat, it’s been Pure Corruption all the way. And you’re not fucking pure
enough for this Club. You’re done.”
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 heal—the part of me that was as steadfast as the beat of my heart—wept with regret.
Death was something I’d fought against on a daily basis, but now I was weaponless.
I hated that a life had been stolen right before me. That I hadn’t been able to stop it.
I’m a witness.
And yet, I’d witnessed nothing.
I’d
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 didn’t know who was
friend or foe. But a second reaction came quickly; the urge to share my
calmness—to let her know that no matter what happened, she wasn’t alone.
We faced the same future—no 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.
“Get rid of the bodies before daybreak.”
“We’ll go back and make sure we’re still covered.”
“Send out the word. It’s over. The Prez won—no anarchy today.”
Each voice was distinct but my ears twitched only for one: the earthquake rumble that set my skin quivering like quicksand.
He
hadn’t spoken since he’d condemned someone to death and pulled the
trigger. Every second of not hearing him made my heart trip faster. I
wasn’t afraid. I should be. I should be immobile with fear. But he
invoked something in me—something 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 grounded—completely nonsensical and far
too strange.
I needed proof that this was real.
I needed concrete evidence that I wasn’t 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 didn’t say a word or move. I just waited. And breathed. And listened.
The
man’s 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.
He’s 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.
I’m 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 life—past, present, and future—lost all purpose the second I stared into his soul.
The fear I’d 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-o’clock 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. “What—” A leg gave out, making him kneel beside me. His hands
shook as he cupped my face, his fingers digging painfully into my
cheekbones. “It’s not—”
My heart raced. Yes.
“You know me,” 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 change—at 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. “Stand up. You’re mine now.”
When
I didn’t 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 couldn’t 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 didn’t sway. I didn’t 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 shouldn’t understand.
This was him.
My nightmare.
About the Author:
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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