Torture to Her Soul
(Monster in His Eyes
#2)
J.M. Darhower
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: 9.29.14
Blurb:
Don't say it unless
you mean it…
It's a simple concept, one I've said time and again, but
something people don't seem to comprehend. You should choose every syllable
carefully, because you never know when somebody will hold you to your word.
Somebody like me.
I'm not a good man. I'm not. I know. I have enough darkness
inside of me to rid the world of every stitch of light. But there's one I could
never harm, one light I couldn't bring myself to snuff out.
Karissa.
She thinks I'm a monster, and maybe I am. I taunt her with
my touch, get a thrill out of torturing her soul. But I'm not the only one. The
world is full of monsters, and I'm not the most dangerous one out there.
Not even close…
God help me, I love her.
I do.
And God help anyone who tries to take her from me.
Teaser:
"Guess it's true what they
say."
The sound of Karissa's voice draws my
attention. Turning around, I see her standing at the bottom of the steps, eyes
trained past me at the front door. Early morning sunshine bathes the area
around it in a soft orange glow, making the brand new locks lining the door
shine brightly. I spent all night fortifying the house, doing everything in my
power to make the place secure.
"And what, exactly, do they
say?"
Karissa's eyes shift from the door to
meet mine. Her hair is a mess, her pajamas disheveled. She clearly just woke up
from sleeping hard, lost in tranquility, while I spent the past few hours
drowning in paranoia. Every time the house creaked, I damn near clawed my way
out of my own skin.
"History repeats itself," she
says, "first as a tragedy, second as a farce."
Karl Marx.
I recognize the quote.
Daniel Santino must've taught it to
her.
Huh.
I wave toward the front door.
"Something about this is funny
to you?"
"Not really funny," she says,
slowly stepping closer. "It's sort of curious, though, that I spent my
entire life trapped behind locked doors and here it is, happening to me again.
I always knew something was going on when my mother started buying extra locks
and nailing down windows. It's just a bit of déjà vu seeing you doing the same
thing."
Hesitating, I reach into my pocket and
fish out a set of keys. I toss them to her without warning, and they hit the
wooden floor by her feet with a clang. Bending down, she picks them up, eyeing
me curiously.
"You're not trapped here, Karissa."
Her fist closes around the keys, her
gaze burning through me as she arches an eyebrow, silent for a moment before
asking, "Aren't I?"
"No, you're not," I say.
"You can leave the house whenever you want."
"Can I?"
"Of course," I say.
"Doesn't mean I won't follow you, though."
About
the Author:
J.M. Darhower is the USA Today
bestselling author of books about the hottest hit men and the women who find
some hope in them. She lives in a tiny town in rural North Carolina, where she
churns out more words than will ever see the light of day. She has a deep
passion for politics and speaking out against human trafficking, and when she
isn't writing (or fangirling) she's usually ranting about those things. Chronic
crimper with a vulgar mouth, she admits to having a Twitter addiction. You can
usually always find her there.
Author's
links:
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