Ruthless: Dragons MC Romance (Dark Romance)

By: Vanessa Waltz


There was something about him.

I raised myself over my man’s porcelain, carved body as my elbows dug into the bed and stared into his bloodshot eyes. The wrong look would earn me a slap across the face. I was thinking things I had no business thinking about.


My breath caught in my throat as Cain's bland eyes scanned mine. He told me daily that he could kill me if he wanted, but Cain didn’t destroy the things he owned, the things that still gave him pleasure.

I lowered my body over his before he could think about my hesitation and kissed him, trying to bury my thoughts of another tall, lanky man with curly hair.

I can’t leave Cain.

His arm curling around my waist seemed to remind me of that. My muscles relaxed and I sighed as Cain edged up behind me, his hardness digging into my ass. I went away inside when he positioned me. I commanded my senses to go numb, not to think, not to feel. From far away, I heard my sharp gasp of pain.

The man who made my spirits lift entered my head like a dream. Spike. I thought of how happy I was the night before, when I was between his sheets and when I dug my fingers in his thick hair as he kissed my neck. But I wasn’t with Spike. I was Cain’s old lady. I didn’t choose him, but he snatched me from my perfect life in Los Angeles that was making me so miserable. And I couldn’t leave.

He’ll kill us both.

The realization stabbed me like a sharp whisper in the ear. I snapped out of it and returned to the present, to the cock slamming inside me and the hand clamped around my mouth. A dirty finger slipped into my mouth, leaving me with a bad taste. I bit it hard; it was difficult to breathe. He grunted, not even feeling the pain.

When it was over, my body was flayed and my face shone with tears. Cain retreated into the bathroom to drip some more of that poison in his eyes.

Spike’s different.

Cain was unfeeling. He could never love me. Not really.

Spike was nothing like Cain. He was warm where Cain was cold with his affection, if he felt anything at all.

When he returned from the bathroom I huddled in a ball, arms wrapped around myself as if that would protect me from him. I felt his weight on the bed again and cringed.

“Are you going to leave me?”


Too afraid to speak or look at him, I shook my head.

Can I even leave you?

“Just in case you ever think about leaving, I want you to remember.” He leaned over suddenly and gripped my tear-stained face so that I was forced to meet his gaze. It was terrifying to look in those eyes. “I’ll hunt you down and drag you back every time, because you’re mine. The moment you become a nuisance to me, you’re dead. The moment you disobey me, you’re dead. You have no life anymore. You don’t even get to use the word, ‘I,’ because everything you do is for me.”

I inhaled suddenly through my clenched teeth, a high gasp. “Please don’t kill me.”

He smiled then, the rage dropping from his bloody eyes as he released my jaw to kiss me gently, for once. “I don’t want to,” he said between kisses. “I like having you around.”

For now.


My hands slid up the smooth, round wood in a slow stroke as I scanned the dingy pool hall. It was lit with cast-iron, low hanging lamps over the dozen or so pool tables, which surrounded a small island of a bar.

The beginning of summer meant that term was over, and bars would be flooded with naïve college kids. When I saw the crowd lining out the door, I couldn’t resist. Dozens of them swarmed around the pool tables, slamming down drink after drink as they drunkenly aimed their pool cues and laughed at stupid jokes.

I was completely lost to that world. I never went to college, never had that kind of freedom. In passing, Bryan suggested that maybe I should take classes at the community college. I laughed at him. I could never handle the rigid structure of classes and homework and rules—I never even graduated high school, choosing instead to learn in the real world. And I learned so much.

I was a master of human behavior and manipulation.

I scanned them, searching for the perfect mark. There were just so many of them that I couldn’t decide which one to pick. Los Angeles had an overabundance of young twenty-year-old boys, which were easy prey for me. Some of them were with their girlfriends—that wouldn’t work.

I need to find a couple guys on their own.

Two heavy-set boys high-fived each other as they guzzled down their beers, heading for the wall to pick up pool cues. One of them had a UCLA shirt.


I took a sip from my rum and coke, wishing that I could light up inside the bar. In Victoria, people smoked wherever the hell they wanted, but not here. When I was young, I remember being fascinated by the plumes of colorful smoke that would spill onto the street when the bar doors opened. It looked beautiful. It was only slightly marred by the tight feeling in my chest when I inhaled my first lungful of cigarette smoke. I didn’t like how my lungs burned, but I kept at it. Smoking was sexy.

Now, it was just a habit.

Without thinking, I removed the tight wedding band from my finger and slid it into my pocket, trying to ignore the swell of guilt.

I’m not supposed to be here.

Top Books