Ruined Read Online Loki Renard

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 48018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)

Angelo Vitali likes to play with his prey.
I hunted him. But he caught me.
He will let me keep my life, but nothing else.
It is not enough to break me physically.
He wants every part of me twisted to his will.
He will love me into oblivion.
And the other dark soul who stalks the halls of the mansion?
The vicious beast who cannot comprehend affection without pain?
Angelo will sacrifice me to him and I will be shared between them.
Their darkest appetites sated by my flesh.
When the house of Vitali is done with me, there will be nothing left of the woman who hunted them.
I will be theirs.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************


I was born with a beast inside me. It lies curled at the base of my spine, occasionally lifting its head to growl when those who should know better but never do get too close. It persists though it has no true place in this world, not even as the dark corners where I have chosen to make my life allow for it to stretch and prowl.

I hunt criminals, because they are the only prey the world has seen fit to allow me. I bring them to justice, because that is right and proper. I am a good person.

But the beast inside me? That has no notion of good or bad. It is indifferent to law and order. It knows only the laws of predator and prey, kill or be killed. It keeps me safe in situations where safety should be impossible. It makes me very, very good at what I do. But it is always to be denied.

Occasionally in this line of work, I am allowed to flex a single claw, to show a fraction of my potential. But inevitably, the weight of civilization must bear down on that animal and make it pretend to be something tame.

As the years pass by, the animal has grown restless. It has started to demand it be fed. I have starved it, and now it extends its claws and begins to shred me from the inside.

I know better than to ever unleash it. Instead, I wrap chains about its neck to hold it down, heavier and heavier shackles, bearing little phrases and words from the civilization who prefers it was not there.

Live, Laugh, Love, lie beneath the paws of the thing, along with a thousand other trite little expressions of what it should mean to be a woman in the world.

Something snaps nearby.

My senses flood into alertness. The animal wakes.

Hands are put on me. Big, cruel hands. Hands with the weight and intention of death.

It would make sense to panic, to flail, to run, to fight. What I do makes less sense. I laugh. I laugh not from fear but from joy as finally my beast breaks free of its chains and goes rampant, claws out, fangs bared, ears pinned, entirely on the offensive…

I am fighting for my life.

Sixty seconds ago, I was spotted by the most dangerous criminal I have ever known. Thirty seconds ago, he came striding after me, long powerful legs driven by an even more powerful core, an expression of pure focus on his handsome, rugged, mature face.

I tried to run.

Twenty-five seconds ago, he caught up with me. I made it thirty seconds longer than I thought I would, and almost got away. But he is taller than me, faster than me, and he loves the hunt.

Now he is dragging me from my surveillance spot and into his compound, past the very cameras I set up to watch him. I will have highly detailed footage of this abduction.

I have no intention of going quietly. I am fighting with every bit of energy I have to stop from being captured. It is not easy for a woman to fight a man twice her size without some kind of weapon. All the training in the world won’t make a measurable difference unless you hit the right spot in the right way at the right time.

My elbow jabs up into his solar plexus and then comes around and makes sharp, hard contact with his jaw. It’s enough to dislodge what was a tenuous grasp. I can’t let him grab me again. If he gets a proper hold, I am done.

Angelo curses something I don’t catch and lunges after me. I’m not trying to hurt him. I’m trying to escape. I’m fast. Not as fast as him over short distances, but I’d put my endurance to the test against a man in his fifties any day. He grabs me again, and this time his fingers wrap around my upper arm and the back of my neck. He yanks me backward. I feel his body hard against mine. He’s muscular. He’s strong. He can’t afford to be anything else.

That shot to the jaw was all I had. Goddammit, why didn’t I knock him out? I’ve dropped bigger, younger men than him with that strike. It wasn’t enough to even rattle Angelo Vitali.