As the son of an Irish mobster, Connor O’Neil spent his boyhood hiding from the horrors of his own home. His one reprieve was a girl he knew only as Evelyn, but even she was taken away. As a man, Connor is determined to stay away from his father’s business. With Sean, participation is not a request, but a demand. The truth is, Connor might be more like the evil he’s trying to hide away from than he would like to admit.
And he’s already spent years trying to cover the scars left over from the pain.
A chance encounter puts the lost girl from his past back on his path, and he no longer has a choice but to face the darkness he’s been ignoring for years.
Evelyn. Sasha. Slave.
She doesn’t really know who she is anymore.
Or maybe she does, and she doesn’t want to tell.
She isn’t the same as she once was—now a thing to be kept and maintained, shuffled from owner to owner until it was her time to go. She only became Connor’s because he took her when he knew she wasn’t his to take.
Except she isn’t Connor’s at all …
And he can’t keep her hidden forever.
~Inflict is a Standalone Romance with graphic depictions of violence, sexual scenes, dark elements and a HEA. It is not recommended for those under the age of 18.
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Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.
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“We should go,” she whispered, still close enough to him to place another kiss on his lips. “Shouldn’t we?”
He was very much ready to go.
“Enjoy the rest of the song,” Connor told her. “I’ll take these glasses back and we’ll head out.”
Evelyn nodded. “All right.”
Connor headed for the bar, got rid of the glasses, paid for the tab, and turned back toward the stage, only to see a sight that had his blood boiling. He hadn’t been gone very long—two minutes at the most—but apparently, that didn’t matter to some people.
Or rather, it didn’t matter to the man now sitting a wee bit too close to Evelyn on the leather sectional facing the stage. Connor could tell, even from his position, that the man’s presence was making Evelyn uncomfortable just by being near her. The guy leaned in closer, and Evelyn moved away accordingly, but that didn’t stop the foolish fecker from moving in again.
It was her stiff spine and darting gaze that spoke of something worse to Connor, especially when her stare found him, wide and worried.
She was scared of the man, perhaps because it was her nature, or a learned trait. Connor wasn’t entirely sure, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that she didn’t enjoy or want the attention the guest was lavishing on her. One look at her face said it all.
Rage churned heavily in Connor’s gut as he headed toward Evelyn and the unknown man. Connor rounded the back of the couch, just behind where the fool was sitting, as Evelyn caught his eye again.
He wasn’t sure what she was more worried about; what he might do, or what her unwanted companion was attempting to do.
“Let me buy you a drink,” the guy said. “Bet it’ll loosen you up enough to talk, beautiful.”
Connor bent down, resting his arms along the back of the couch, gaining the fool’s attention. “Leave.”
He didn’t give warnings.
He didn’t make nice.
He wasn’t the type.
“Pardon?” the guy asked, looking over his shoulder to find Connor staring straight at him.
“Leave,” Connor demanded again.
The guy chuckled, which only served to piss Connor off even more than he already was. He wasn’t a joke, and he wasn’t about to be treated like one.
“Listen, man, we’re just having a conversation,” the guy said. “Back off a little.”
His hand came up fast, his fingers stroking Evelyn’s cheek with a gentle touch. It didn’t matter how soft the man was, she flinched, and Connor exploded.
Connor grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair at the crown of his head at the same time he moved around the side of the seat. The guy’s shouts and Connor’s sudden, violent action caused the singers on stage to quiet, and likely gained the attention of the one bouncer at the door. Connor didn’t care.
Before the guy could even think to fight back, Connor brought the man’s face crashing down into the wee, round table in front of the seating area. The bottles, shots, and wine glasses jumped, tumbling and shattering on the floor.
Blood bloomed from the fool’s face, spilling across the table.
Connor smashed the guy’s face into the table one more time, just for good measure. The arsehole wasn’t dead, but he sure as hell looked a wee bit worse for wear, and wouldn’t feel very feckin’ good come morning.
Bending down, Connor told the bleeding idiot, “Next time you’re told to leave, just do that. Someone else might not be as kind as I was tonight.”
Connor let the guy go, and the useless sack of shite fell to the floor, unmoving. Likely unconscious, not that it made much of a difference now.
“All right, you need to leave!” shouted the oncoming bouncer.
Connor held a hand out to a stunned, silent Evelyn who was still sitting where she had been when he left her. “Come on, lass. Seems we need to go.”
Evelyn glanced up at him. “Did you kill him?”
“How do you know?”
He did look a wee bit dead.
“He’s still bleeding, ain’t he?”
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