Royal Blood
Royal Blood #1
By Amity Cross
Cover Design: Amity Cross
Coming December 8, 2014
Synopsis
A hit gone wrong,
an impossible contract, revenge and the ultimate kicker… falling in love.
Mercy Reid is a runner.
Mercy Reid is a runner.
She found the perfect place to hide, until it wasn't.
Xavier "X" Blood always gets what he wants.
He had the perfect arrangement, until it wasn't.
X is the mysterious tough guy from Royal Blood MC who gets shit done. Cross the Club and you get a visit from X. Only one person walks away at the end of it...and it isn't you.
Mercy is hiding something. Something big. Looking to get lost, she runs from one hopeless situation right into the clutches of a monster.
When X and Mercy meet, something more electrifying than sparks fly. Something dangerous, passionate and forbidden.
When you deal in death, there's only one way things can end...
Or is there?
·
If you like sparkly unicorns
and hearts, Royal Blood IS NOT for you.
·
If you like dark twisty
anti-heroes and heart stopping roller coasters, Royal Blood IS for
you.
·
If you like teddy bears and
kittens with whiskers, Royal Blood IS NOT for you.
· If you like unapologetic
alpha males that drip sex and talk dirty, Royal Blood IS for you.
You have been
warned.
Excerpt
X
Sliding out of
the booth, I sauntered across the pub and ducked behind the counter. Nobody
gave me a second glance. They didn’t know who I was, nobody did, but they knew
I wasn’t anybody good. Peering through the window on the door, Mercy had her
back turned, wiping at her damp T-shirt. I could step into her from behind and
show her how hard I was…but that wasn’t the way this game was going to be
played.
Pressing the door
open with the flat of my palm, she looked up at me with blue eyes that gave
away two things. Her hair wasn’t naturally black and by the way her pupils
dilated, she was amped up. I was interested in only one of these observations
and by the way my cock began to stir, there was no guessing which one was the
money shot.
Mercy glared up
at me, trying to cover her surprise at my appearance.
“What the fuck do
you want?” she spat, dabbing at her tiny T-shirt with a rag. “You’re not
allowed back here. Employees only."
I stepped closer,
not put off by her tone at all. I’d had worse.
“I don’t give a shit,”
I said.
She eyed me, her
gaze raking from head to cock and back up again.
I quirked an
eyebrow, my lip curling in amusement.
“If you want
something, just fucking say it,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t
even know who the fuck you are."
“X.”
“X, what?” she
said, putting her hands on her hips. Bitch didn’t miss a trick.
“It’s my
name."
"X as in the
letter x?" She rolled her eyes.
"Got a
problem?" I asked, inching closer.
“Yeah.” She
nodded at me. “You’re in a staff only area. You might be all buddy buddy with
Weiss, but I don’t know you from shit."
“The mouth on
you,” I breathed, totally turned on. I knew she had bite in her, but fucking
Jesus H Christ. The more she bit, the harder I got. My gaze rested on her tits.
Yeah, I was a tits man through and through and hers...
“You think I’m
going to let you fuck me?” she scoffed, her bluntness doing nothing but turning
me on even more.
My gaze snapped
back to hers. “Who said I was going to fuck you?"
She pressed her
hips forward, her groin rubbing into mine. “Your cock."
My hand shot up
and grasped the hair at the nape of her neck. With a sharp tug, her head fell
to the side, leaving her neck exposed. If I was an asshole, I’d just take her
now, but I wasn’t…fuck that. I was an asshole. Asshole was too safe a
word to describe the kind of man I was.
“No,” I said,
running my gaze down her pale neck and over her tits. “No, I’m not going to
fuck you, Mercy.” She gave me a look that screamed ‘offended' and it only made
me grin wider. “Not here. When I fuck you, I’m not going to share your screams
with anyone."
Her entire body
shivered and I knew I had her. Next time, she would come to me.
Letting her go, I
let her hair run between my fingers and it took her a beat too long to step back
and separate our bodies.
Giving her one
last appreciative look, I turned on my heel and exited the ‘employee only’
room. I could wait. My cock strained against my jeans in protest, but this was
one desire I was playing out and savoring.
I strode across
the bar and pushed out the door, rearranging myself.
I could wait.
Meet Amity Cross
Amity Cross isn’t
my real name. That’s no secret.
I didn’t want my
Mum and my workplace to find out I wrote about doodles and tongue-in-cheek
sexual innuendo.
I live in a leafy
suburb of Melbourne writing about screwed up relationships and kick ass
female leads that don’t take s**t lying down.
Insert more
pretentious c**p here.
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