“Raze?” Viktor called as I made notes on my pad, and I heard a dumbbell clatter to the floor. “You need to meet Ms. Volkova. She runs things around here, for her father. He runs the whole show.”

Raze turned to face me; it felt as if a northern wind had gusted in.

Scribbling the last note on the paper, I looked up to see a ripped and cut muscled man standing panting, salty sweat dripping to the floor. His eyes were downcast, Eye Black smudged underneath each one to disguise his eyes. But like a pull, a will for him to lift his gaze, his head lifted and I found myself staring into a pair of brown eyes, the left iris smudged with a hint of blue… my blue, the color from my eyes…

“Y-you?” I whispered as I drank in this man. It was him. Him! All six-four, two twenty pounds of him. Tanned skin covered in scars, marks, and sadistic tattoos. I saw the recognition flash across his eyes, but in a second, his stare was numb again, like he was blocking me out, like he was blocking everything out, except the rage he kept hidden. I grew breathless as his packed abs and pecs tensed under my scrutiny, his bulging thighs clenched at my attention, and his traps danced as his jaw tightened the more I stared.

And his face? Finally, I could study his face in the light, and my God… he was beautiful. Without meaning to, my lips parted in want and a silent hiss slipped out. Raze’s stern face was covered in dark stubble, three large scars marring his weathered skin, one down his cheek, one angled down his forehead, and one slashed under his left eye. But they didn’t make him any less handsome. Hell, Raze couldn’t be described as handsome.

Rough, raw, dark, dangerous, intimidating… the opposite of handsome. But I couldn’t tear my gaze from him.

And then those brown eyes with a hint of blue bored so fervently on my chest, a chest panting a shade too hard, betraying the effect he was having on my traitorous body. My nipples became erect, far too sensitive against the material of my camisole. The brush of the fabric sent jolts of pleasure to my clit, and I had to fight the urge to drop my hand to my pussy, from palming the flesh of my breasts.

And then one thought broke through the trance, through the hellish spell I’d found myself under. I had given him ten grand. He was the buy-in. I had given him the money to get his revenge… and he’d bought into my

Dungeon.

“Viktor, leave us alone,” I ordered rather too harshly, my demand met with silence.

I stared at Raze and he stared back, the tension palpable between us.

“Viktor, leave,” I commanded again.

“Ms. Kisa—”

“Viktor! Leave!” I shouted. I heard Viktor sigh and exit the training room, slamming the door.

My heart pounded like a drum in my chest, so hard I feared Raze could hear it in the few feet between us. His sheer size was intimidating, his cold stare bone chilling, and I had to fight the urge to think of Luka.

But this man was not Luka.

Steeling my nerves, I asked, “Why are you here?”

Raze’s eyes flared and his lips tightened, but no answer was forthcoming.Anger infused my blood and I stepped closer, watching his muscled chest tense, and I snapped, “Why?”

A growl ripped from his throat and he closed in on me until I smelled that fresh snow smell of his skin mixed with the scent of his workout. I gasped as Raze’s large frame loomed over me, causing me to stumble back until my shoulders hit the wall. I darted my gaze up to meet his and held my breath.

His brown eyes darkened as he stared down at me and his face flushed

“Raze—”

“Revenge.” The ropes and veins in his traps bulged in tune with his reply.

“On who?” I whispered, watching a small bead of sweat running from the bottom of his throat down his chest, before fluttering my eyes up to refocus on his mouth. His lips were full, his cupid’s bow defined.

Raze’s palm slapped on the wall above me, caging me in, and his head lowered even farther, my breasts heaving at the proximity. He inhaled deeply, drinking in my scent. His face flushed and, for a moment his eyesclosed, a frown pulling on his forehead.Raze began shaking, his muscles twitching, and I could see a storm brewing in his acrimonious expression as his eyes snapped back open.

“On the man who lied. On the man who wronged me. Condemned me. And turned me into this!” He reared back, slapping his chest. Raze walked to the punching bag and slammed his fist into it so hard that the heavy chain from the ceiling groaned. Raze set to a short pace, back and forth, back and forth, and I remained still against the wall, just watching him. “What? What has he turned you into?” I asked cautiously and immediately regretted the question when Raze seemed to exude resentment.

Shivers raced down my spine.

Raze stopped dead and ran his bandaged hands down his face. His attention immediately shot to me, and he said, “This killer. This monster who needs blood, needs to kill, maim, slaughter.”

My hands were now shaking, gaze fixed on the tally marks. Raze obviously caught my stare. Moving to the bench, he picked up a steel knuckleduster, well used if its look was anything to go by, yet the spiked sharp blades glinted in the florescent light. A whimper escaped my mouth.

Raze stalked over my way, slipping the knuckleduster on his hand, and set me in his sights. Fear froze me to the spot. I tried to swallow back a cry. Raze didn’t stop until he was almost on top of me, his hands fisted at his sides, the right clad in steel lifting to run over his abs, his abs covered in uneven, straggly inked tallies.

“My kills,” he announced coldly, his voice sounding like he’d swallowed broken glass. The fear I harbored deep inside intensified. I focused on his mouth, his face, and saw nothing but rage. It was as though any emotion but hatred had been cast out. No humanity was evident in his stare… but those eyes… those eyes! “Over six hundred,” Raze suddenly added, dragging me back to the here-and-now. I followed the trail of his hand and realized what he’d just

“Six hundred?” I gasped.

Raze’s lip hooked into a humorless smirk. His spiked hand fisted, and I heard his knuckles crack as he leaned in. “Over.” Raze’s feet edged forward again, and he held out the spike and brought it toward my cheek. I couldn’t breathe as the metal drifted closer to my skin, only then to witness Raze drag it down his bare chest and abs to a tally comprising three marks.

Slamming the spike into his skin, blood instantly pooled, and he dragged it down to make a messy, uneven line. All the time, he didn’t remove his brown eyes from mine. I wanted to cry. I wanted to stop him from harming himself. I wanted to gaze into those eyes and pretend I was here with Luka. My kind, beautiful Luka, brown eyes with a blue smudge that matched mine.

But this man, this Raze, was fucked up. Too fucked up. He wasn’t my Luka, no matter how hard I wished he was.

Releasing the spike from his torso, Raze directed his hand my way, and I flinched, bringing up my hand, which clutched my pad and pen, to defend my face. The pen was ripped from my grasp. Raze placed the plastic between his teeth and snapped it in half, spitting shattered pieces to the floor.

Ink began to drip on his skin. Guiding the broken pen to the new gash, Raze stabbed it along the cut and rubbed the ink into the open wound.

“Raze!” I shrilled. I fought the urge to knock the pen from his hands.

But Raze soon released it from his grip and, lowering his mouth to my ear, said, “Another kill… your kill, the one I killed for you.”

As I choked back my shock, Raze backed away. He threw his knuckleduster back to the bench, and resuming a vacant concentration, he lifted the dumbbells and continued his routine.

Slapping my chest, I worked on breathing. What the hell had just happened?

Who was this man?

"Hey Romeo Prince waits for no one, once you're in that's it. Fate sealed."

"As if Rome's pain wasn't portrayed enough in book one, Tillie illustrates beautifully the depth of his feelings for Molly, the hardships of his life and his fight to win, own and keep the woman he loves."

"It was just heartbreakingly beautiful. My emotions were all over the place, I cried, laughed, swooned and screamed bloody murder."

"The never before scenes illustrated the complexities of Rome's character, it wasn't as clear cut as we assumed from book one but rather a hell lot more complicated. Everything is gradually explained, keeping in rhythm with the pace Tillie sets and the steady flow of her writing captivating you until the end."

Reading feeling like...

But the finished feeling...

"Tillie went above and beyond for this book, and by the end I was utterly speechless. I had to ask myself, is this the same woman who gave me my sweet Rome?"

"This was a battle for survival, a fight for love and hope of a HEA. Mae's relationship with Styx was anything but easy, but damn my heart would skip a beat when they were together. You'd have to be blind to not see they were it for one another, and their chemistry was smoking hot."

"There's nothing more beautiful than seeing something so wounded and broken, gradually put back together one step at a time. Seriously minions Tillie out did herself, she holds nothing back with either character."

"This is not your typical Biker Romance, it has a unique edge to it that draw you in from page one. The characters are well developed, and easy to become lost in. You'll miss them once you finish, and well the entire novel is sure to give you a serious book hangover."

I started like...

Then ended like...

Styx moved to the chair, sitting before me yet again, as though he could sense my dismay. He tilted his head in question, asking silently what was wrong. I had managed to evade my reality long enough. Part of me could almost pretend it was just a horrible nightmare, more so as I sat in this strange darkened room with Styx.

However, flashes of Bella, motionless, lying broken on the floor of that cell, stabbed relentlessly at my conscience, piercing emotional walls. I shook my head profusely, trying to rid my mind’s eye of those horrific scenes.

Severe punishments were common amongst my people, a necessity to prevent others from falling from the path of righteousness. But Bella was my sister, she could not love Gabriel, and that was her downfall, plain and simple. I would rather live in eternaldamnation here on the outside than marry the man who sanctioned the relentless abuse of my true flesh and blood.

Awkwardly, Styx moved toward me. He gently ran his thumbs over my cheeks, wiping away the wetness. It took me a moment to realize I was crying. Emotions were forbidden in the commune, but I could not stop the tears. My chest tightened and I gripped his wrists, needing his support. Silent involuntary cries ripped from my chest and I let the pain take hold. I really cried for the first time in my life.

Styx moved beside me and an arm circled my shoulders, which made me jump. I glanced up at Styx’s rugged face: those hazel eyes, big soft lips, rough cheeks marked by a few small scars. His tongue licked at the silver ring through his bottom lip and a large set of dimples set on his cheeks. Those dark, soft delves made him seem less… severe, more human.

As I once more fixed my eyes on this big, silent man, so different from the boy I met, I crumbled. I gave in. This was everything I had been taught was wrong, but I could not help but cherish his touch. His strong arms encased me, warming me, comforting me, letting me feel safe. I held on tightly to his leather vest—he smelled of leather, soap, and smoke, and something else, something really… good. I had never ever been held like this  before, never soothed. The only type of affection I had ever received was on those days.

Even then, touching like this was strictly prohibited. Styx guided my head to the crook of his neck and only then did I set my sobs free. I cried for a long time before I gave in to exhaustion and drifted off to sleep, still unsure if I was being lured into a den of evil. But I felt completely and utterly safe in the strong arms of the only boy I had ever kissed…