Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Fri, 16 Dec 2022 07:44:20 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Oath of Submission (Deviant Doms #7) Read Online Jane Henry http://www.ilovenovels.com/oath-of-submission-deviant-doms-7-read-online-jane-henry Fri, 25 Nov 2022 12:33:17 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/oath-of-submission-deviant-doms-7-read-online-jane-henry Genre: Dark, Mafia, Romance, Suspense Authors: Jane Henry Series: Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
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Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)

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She's left me two choices: Take her life or marry her.

When Marialena Rossi sauntered into my life and destroyed my plans, little did she know what she was getting into. Who I am. The consequences.

She'll take my name.
Bear my children.
Submit.

No matter what, she'll learn two things: Vows are unbreakable, and my word is law.

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

CHAPTER ONE

Marialena

I finger the sparkling amethyst crystal before I place it in the palm of my hand and hold it to the light. A ray of sunshine hits a facet. It feels as if the crystal glows in my hands. At its very core, the gem is a deep, translucent shade of lavender.

“It’s beautiful,” someone breathes beside me. “What is it?”

I answer without turning to see who’s speaking, I’m so mesmerized by the crystal. “Amethyst. It’s a violet-colored quartz. A semi-precious stone, but so powerful.”

“Powerful?”

I finally turn and look into the curious eyes of a young, pretty blonde with pale blue eyes, her hair cut into a short but stylish cut. Waif-like and thin, I can see the pale blue veins at her throat. She’s a full foot shorter than I am and looks like she probably has to shop in the children’s section of the store for her clothes and could maybe use a cheeseburger.

“Yes, powerful,” I respond. “It gives protection and security and used to be recognized as a symbol of royalty. Amethyst calms the mind and spirit and protects against nightmares.” I shrug. “I keep a large one by my bed to help me sleep.”

She gives me a skeptical look. “A rock can do that?”

I’m used to the skepticism. I have four testosterone-laden brothers.

I smile and look back at the stone. “Why not?” I ask. “Sodium chloride is a rock, and we all widely accept the beneficial qualities of salt, don’t we?”

I don’t hear a response. I continue.

“But you don’t have to take my word for it.” I’ve long since given up trying to convince people to believe what they can’t see with their eyes or touch with their hands. And I don’t need others to believe what I do. I know what I believe. I know who I am. Her doubt doesn’t have anything to do with me.

She only gives me a thoughtful look and nods. “Thank you,” she says softly, but I’m not sure why. I watch as she retreats to the back of the store, glancing nervously over her shoulder and adjusting the strap on her handbag.

I look back at the stone in my palm and breathe in the cleansing air permeated with burning incense. Breathe in peace, exhale stress. Namaste is one of my favorite stores in Boston. Just wandering in here seems to make me calmer, more centered. Windchimes softly tinkle above us, hanging from circular hooks in the ceiling. Large glass domes filled with crystals of every shape, size, and color line shelves upon shelves, and some of the less precious stones lay piled in handwoven baskets, glinting in the overhead light. Silken, hand-crafted meditation pillows with satin covers and embroidered details are scattered throughout the store, beckoning customers to rest a while and let inspiration and intuition guide them to their next purchase. And Murry, Namaste’s resident goldendoodle, peacefully wags his tail in the corner of the store.

I love it here.

My bodyguard does not.

“Hmph,” he grunted under his breath when I told him I was heading to Namaste. He was half a second away from rolling his eyes when I scowled at him and frosted my voice.

“You don’t have to like it. You don’t have to buy anything. Why do you hate that place so much?” Amadeo’s one of our most seasoned guards, having been with us since before my father passed away.

He pursed his lips. “I don’t hate the place,” he said curtly. “Literally, go have a séance or whatever the fuck it is you do in there. It’s that the store’s design makes it impossible to keep a good eye on you. It’s all narrow and dark with only one entryway.” He punctuated his critique with a grunt. “Fire hazard if you ask me, especially with all that incense burning.”

“Ugh, hello, incense is the smoke that comes after you blow out the flame. And you people are ridiculous,” I protested. “I’m a grown woman who doesn’t need a good eye on her. When are you going to realize that?” He fixed me with that no-nonsense look I know all too well, like he took lessons from my brothers.

“The day your brother gives the order to lift my instruction to guard you.”

I rolled my eyes and scratched my forehead with my middle finger, casually flipping him the bird. “Of course. Right. Romeo says jump and you ask how high.”

Cue another eye roll.

And here we are. I may be Marialena Rossi, mafia princess under the thumb of the Rossi family hierarchy, but if I want to go to Namaste, I go to Namaste, and anyone who wants to give me shit about it can kiss my Italian ass.

Luckily for me and unfortunately for Amadeo, I am an expert at losing my bodyguards, much to my big brothers’ chagrin. So I watch. And I wait, carefully making my way toward the back of the store. Maybe it’s juvenile, but I am so done with the overbearing protective bullshit. I’m over having bodyguards and surveillance and everyone knowing every text I send and breath I take.

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Oath of Possession (Deviant Doms #6) Read Online Jane Henry http://www.ilovenovels.com/oath-of-possession-deviant-doms-6-read-online-jane-henry Thu, 14 Jul 2022 21:12:43 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/oath-of-possession-deviant-doms-6-read-online-jane-henry Genre: Action, Alpha Male, Crime, Drama, Erotic, Mafia, Romance Authors: Jane Henry Series: Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Oath of Possession (Deviant Doms #6)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Jane Henry
Language:	English
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Vivia Montavio is a traitor, and it’s my job to see to her punishment and interrogation. What a tragedy. She’s the hottest little number I’ve ever seen with that defiant little chin and eyes that spark with wit and boldness. I love a good challenge. We’re left with little choice when the truth outs. So I take her far, far away to La Cabina, a rustic cabin in the middle of nowhere. To…interrogate her. Discover the truth. But when I uncover more than I anticipated, she’s not the only guilty one. Because now that we’re alone, I’ll take whatever I want. The truth. Her innocence. Everything. She’s in danger, but there’s only one way to protect her now: Claim her as mine. Keep her captive. Possess her. And there’s no one left to protect her from me.
Books in Series:	Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
Books by Author:	Jane Henry

CHAPTER ONE

Dario

Of all the jobs I’ve been given as capo in the Rossi family… something tells me, this one’s gonna be my favorite.

I look in the rearview mirror at the furious, stunning redhead who looks as if she could tear me to pieces with her bare teeth, and give her a wink. I don’t give a fuck about the guy sitting next to her, who’s brooding like a pouty toddler, staring out at the hazy sketch of the Boston waterfront as it whizzes by the tinted window.

“Gonna ‘fess up now?” I ask congenially, tossing the offer to either of them that might take the bait. They won’t, though. Half wish I smoked so I could light one up just to add to the whole nonchalant vibe.

I shrug my shoulders. “Might be easier than when I’ve got you two suspended in chains in the family dungeon.”

“Fuck off,” she says in a half-whisper. She tries to hide the way her lips tremble, but I don’t miss it. I wonder what exactly she’s afraid of. She hasn’t seen a fraction of what I’m capable of, so I don’t know if there’s more she fears than me.

But she knows I haven’t made up the dungeon, and likely knows she’s absolutely heading there.

I don’t know much about Vivia Montavio except that she’s a Montavio—which is almost enough to know. Youngest sister of the Montavio brothers, cousin to my fellow mob brothers the Rossis. Sergio Montavio, the eldest surviving Montavio after the death of his brother Nicolo, mentioned he had a younger sister. He even went so far as to casually mention I might like to meet her someday, but that was a few years back. And leave it to the asshole not to tell me she was a fuckin’ knockout. I’ve only caught glimpses of her, but it was enough. I look forward to a more casual perusal, I smirk to myself.

Of course, she’s off-limits now that she’s a prisoner.

Though maybe…

My phone rings just as I pull up the traffic on GPS.

Romeo. My Don, the leader of the Rossi family.

“Yeah, brother?”

“You’re gridlocked from where you are to the tunnel, then it’s a fuckin’ parking lot until you practically get here. You’re looking at three hours minimum to get home.”

I curse under my breath. The typical drive’s only thirty to forty minutes without traffic but leave it to the Boston highway system to complicate shit.

“Got another plan, boss?” He don’t want me sitting in traffic with cuffed captives likely to cause a scene, not to mention we’d be like sitting ducks on the highway if anyone decided to pull something funny on us. I have no idea who these two were involved with.

“Yeah. Take them off the highway, someplace private. Keep them quiet, keep them covered. Let me know if you get even an inkling you’ve got a tail.”

Jesus. A tail?

I glance in my rearview mirrors, but with this traffic, it’s impossible to tell if we’ve been followed.

“Mario and Gloria following?”

Mario, the youngest Rossi brother, and his woman Gloria helped me bag these two, and I expected they’d come as backup. Probably just as well if they didn’t, though. If it comes down to a high-speed chase, having two cars to keep safe is bullshit. This ain’t my first rodeo.

“No, I figured you could handle my spoiled little cousin and her henchman. Gave Mario and Gloria the night off.”

A warning bell dings in the dark recesses of my mind, but I ignore it. I don’t have much of a choice here. Got two prisoners I need to get to safety, a possible tail, and nothing short of a private jet to The Castle’s getting me outta here anytime soon. If I had just the girl, I wouldn’t even question nabbing a motorcycle from somewhere—hell, my brother-in-crime Mario’s got connections on every street corner. But with two of them, I’m shit out of luck.

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Oath of Seduction (Deviant Doms #5) Read Online Jane Henry http://www.ilovenovels.com/oath-of-seduction-deviant-doms-5-read-online-jane-henry Tue, 24 May 2022 09:11:29 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/oath-of-seduction-deviant-doms-5-read-online-jane-henry Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Romance Authors: Jane Henry Series: Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Oath of Seduction (Deviant Doms #5)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Jane Henry
Language:	English
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It began with a one-night stand. Two lonely strangers. One fiery attraction. Nothing to lose… Or so we thought. But actions have consequences. And in the morning light, pretty little Detective Emma King will have to face hers. The man she let into her bed, the man she fully submitted to... Is none other than Mario Rossi. The player. The mastermind of the family she hates. The man she’s determined to destroy. And now the only choices that remain to her are death… or marriage to me. She's as smart as a whip and clever as a fox. Sensual and seductive. She’s determined not to yield to me again... But I know what she craves. What she needs. So I’ve taken another oath. To seduce her. To punish her. To enthrall her. To make her blood sing for me and her body crave mine. I might be known as a player, but Emma will soon learn… When I play, I always win.
Books in Series:	Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
Books by Author:	Jane Henry

CHAPTER ONE

Emma

I shiver when a brisk wind kicks up my skirt, the crimson fabric fluttering around my knees like the wings of a cardinal.

My mother hated red. She said it was the color whores wore.

She would know.

But I like it. Red’s full of energy and life, the color that symbolizes many things throughout various cultures and times—life and courage, anger and love. Passion.

I wrap my arms around myself to warm up, trying to be impervious to the biting wind.

“Happy now?” I ask her, my voice tinged with bitterness. “You got your way. I’m alone now. Just like you always wanted. Only now you’re not here to mock me anymore.”

Bitterness coats my tongue, even through the salt of tears. I swipe at them angrily. I vowed when I was fifteen years old I’d never shed another tear for her, but sometimes tears come when I don’t want them to.

I lift up my chin, defying the cold waterfront breeze to chill me. We’ve left winter behind, but the cool spring air hasn’t yet warmed, still holding on to the last vestiges of winter on the coast. A chilly wind whips over the water, pebbling my skin.

But I like the cold. I like the taste of the salty air, even as it turns my lips blue and I shiver. I like the raw boldness of it, the gusty bellow of a silent power that knows no bounds.

I step out further, the pointed, shiny tips of my shoes—death-defying heels I wore in honor of the occasion— edging toward the precipice.

Jump, a little voice in my mind tells me.

No one will miss you.

You won’t have to fight anymore.

Jump, and let the water wash it all away.

I stare at the blue-green waves laced in white, churning like a monster’s rage, boiling and simmering below as if defying the cold March air.

I laugh at the voice in my head.

Give up so soon? I taunt. Never.

I have a mission. A job to do. I’ve worked all my adult life to get here and won’t let one low moment push me into doing something stupid and reckless.

That’s not who I am.

I want wild, though. I want to do something that doesn’t follow the rules, that doesn’t make sense. Something... bold.

I don’t know how long I stand there, but the sun sinks from eye level to barely noticeable, nothing more than a splash of fading orange on the horizon. And with the setting sun, a deeper cold sets in.

My stomach churns with hunger. I don’t remember the last time I ate. I didn’t skip food because of grief. No, grief was the bitter herb I tasted a full decade ago. I’m beyond caring at this point. The tears aren’t tears of regret but of anger, though why I’m angry, I couldn’t say.

I’ve got a ways to walk, but I chose it this way. I wanted to be alone. I craved being alone. Sometimes, walking alone’s the one thing that clears my mind.

My mother made it easy. Hardly anyone came to her funeral anyway, save a harried-looking woman wearing a too-tight dress and scuffed flats. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t talk to me. She dropped a wilting rose on my mother’s dead body, then left with her head hung low.

And I didn’t care. I still don’t.

Ah, that’s right. I ate two mints from the little glass bowl in the waiting room. A meal for an ant, not someone like me. Fuck it, I’m starving.

Another brisk wind makes me shiver again. My legs wobble on the edge of the cliff. I’m in danger, and I know it, but I crave the bolt of adrenaline that courses through me when I look over the cliff’s edge. It helps make the little voice in my mind that coaxes me to jump to fade a little.

I listen to the waves. I close my eyes, my arms spread out wide to stay balanced. They say it’s harder to remain still with your eyes closed. My lips tip up in a grin.

I didn’t get to where I am by being reckless and dangerous, but damn if it doesn’t exhilarate me.

I focus on the details around me. It centers me somehow.

I’ve never really known how it works with me… I’m not like other people. When I was younger, I didn’t know enough to pretend I was ordinary, but learning to feign mediocrity’s a skill one learns with age.

When I was little, I pretended I had superpowers. I almost fooled some of my friends. The power of observation when others are blind to details does seem almost supernatural.

Not everyone could tell you that the sun sets today at precisely 5:38 p.m., that tonight we have a full moon, that there are three cars parked in the nearly barren parking lot below the cliff, that there used to be an ice cream shack there, and maybe it returns when the weather warms up.

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Oath of Sacrifice (Deviant Doms #4) Read Online Jane Henry http://www.ilovenovels.com/oath-of-sacrifice-deviant-doms-4-read-online-jane-henry Fri, 25 Mar 2022 19:04:34 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/oath-of-sacrifice-deviant-doms-4-read-online-jane-henry Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Mafia, Romance Authors: Jane Henry Series: Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Oath of Sacrifice (Deviant Doms #4)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Jane Henry
Language:	English
Book Information:
She may be promised to a stranger... But we know the truth. Rosa Rossi is mine. Mine to have and to hold, No matter the cost. If we're discovered, My life is forfeit, And she'll be exiled forever. But I know... I see through every glance sent my way I feel every pulse of her heart. And my heart beats with hers. Now she's under my protection. No matter the cost, Even if that means making the ultimate sacrifice.
Books in Series:	Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
Books by Author:	Jane Henry

CHAPTER ONE

Santo

A bead of sweat rolls down my back. I scowl at the landscape that most would find beautiful—rolling green hills that overlook the Rossi family vineyard, almost ethereal with the setting sun. The air’s pregnant with the sweet scent of ripe grapes.

Fuck that.

I wasn’t bred to harvest fucking grapes.

I yank at my T-shirt and pull it off, wipe it across my brow and ball it in my fist. A cool wind skates across my sweat-slicked naked chest. I’ve grown a beard, gotten more ink, lifted more in Tuscany.

What the hell else am I gonna do?

September’s usually the time of year they tell tourists to come to Tuscany, instead of during the hellish, stifling August heat, because the weather’s begun to cool. But not this year. This year, September’s started off almost as hot as August.

Others might see this as a gorgeous landscape, a little slice of heaven, really.

Not for me.

This vineyard’s my fucking prison.

Bare-chested, glaring at the ripe vines that sprawl before me, I want to pound my chest and scream like motherfuckin’ Tarzan. I want to claw at the rose tats on my arms, the stark, vivid reminders of who I am.

Who I try to be.

A reminder of the oaths I took.

All of them.

The ones they know about.

And the one… they don’t.

I turn my back to the vineyard and stare at the sprawling estate before me, only one of a number of places the Rossi family owns in Tuscany. I once had a place here in Italy, a place of my own, but I sold it when Romeo banished me to the vineyard. It only mocked me with its vacancy and opulence.

Now I have an apartment here at the vineyard, where I oversee operations.

Motherfucking vineyard operations.

A part of me wonders if I’m here because Romeo wants me as far away from his family in America as possible.

Romeo, who’s like a brother to me. My Don.

He knows I don’t like to sit still and never have. He knows I like to get my hands dirty, whether that’s changing the oil in one of my cars or breaking legs as punishment for a crime committed against the family. Romeo knows that the best way to really punish a guy like me is to take him away from anyone who matters and to make him do fucking menial labor.

As I head inside, a car pulls up the long drive. It’s hard to see with the setting sun, but I cover my eyes to block the sun’s rays and try to see. Ah. One of Tavi’s, then. He’s come to pay a visit. I wait, but he’s busy on his phone so I give him space.

Tuscan homes are rustic and sturdy, many built centuries ago. The home set at the vineyard’s no exception. Stone columns and benches line the walk to the main house, the most modern part all the recessed lighting and spotlights in the garden. Here, the smell of ripe grapes fades a little.

Laughter comes from inside the kitchen. Maurice, an older guy who’s cooked for the Rossi family for decades, makes magic in the kitchen, unless Tavi’s wife Elise is here. Elise can cook her ass off. But Elise is pregnant, and hates flying on a good day, so Tavi’s got her home with The Family.

I wonder why he’s here.

Another burst of laughter floats through the warm evening air. I clench my fists. It’s been way too fucking long since I’ve had a chance to talk with brothers of my own, to feel like I have a tribe that actually welcomes me. I know what’ll happen if I go to the kitchen.

I’ll find Maurice regaling staff with tales of his many exploits from when he was a young guy in the Italian Army. It’s how he met Narciso, the late Don of the Rossi family , and how he got the job here. Kitchen help in the Army.

They’ll be sitting around the large, rustic kitchen table with their pints of ale or glasses of wine, probably with a heavy antipasto plate in the center of the table. Maurice is famous for his antipasto boards—handmade cheeses, meats, olives cured from the Rossi’s private collection, with jams and dried fruits. They’ll drink and eat and talk in perfect amiability.

Until I walk in.

Tavi’s still sitting in his car, probably catching up on emails.

I decide to test my theory.

I amble toward the kitchen. Sure enough, the whole crew’s sitting around with their drinks and food, and Maurice is speaking animatedly in Italian, waving his hands for dramatic effect. He winks at me and continues his tale. Maurice has known me since I was ten years old, and he isn’t afraid of me.

That makes one.

I stand against the doorframe, leaning my hip against it to listen to him.

“And the girl, she says, buddy, you want more than one tonight? I’m a triplet.” Snickers and chuckles. Maurice waggles his eyebrows. “And I say to her, I’m glad you told me. Thought I was seeing triple. Still, I only got one dick, sweetheart.”

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Oath of Fidelity (Deviant Doms #3) Read Online Jane Henry http://www.ilovenovels.com/oath-of-fidelity-deviant-doms-3-read-online-jane-henry Tue, 15 Feb 2022 09:43:50 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/oath-of-fidelity-deviant-doms-3-read-online-jane-henry Genre: Action, Alpha Male, Mafia, Romance Authors: Jane Henry Series: Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
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Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Oath of Fidelity (Deviant Doms #3)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Jane Henry
Language:	English
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She’ll pay the price for her betrayal… as my bride. Elise Regazza is beautiful. She’s also a liar. A schemer. A woman who betrayed The Family. And she owes her life for what she’s done. When she begs for mercy, I offer her a single choice: Marry me. Solidify my power in The Family. And she agrees. But make no mistake, little Elise will never be free. Now our vows will be her shackles. My rules will be her collar. And disloyalty will not be tolerated. The traitor will learn to honor and obey the man she hates… For better or for worse. Until death do us part.
Books in Series:	Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
Books by Author:	Jane Henry

CHAPTER 1

Tavi

I stare at the cracked tile that leads to the altar of Saint Anthony’s and remember how it broke. I wonder if anyone else here does. Not everyone can say they recall the way their father body slammed the alter server on their first Communion day.

Why’d he do it? Who the hell knows. The kid probably looked at him funny or showed my father what he thought was a form of disrespect.

I can still see the way my mother’s face grew cold and impassive, her typical response to my father’s fits of rage. Unless his fury was aimed at one of us. Then, we saw another Tosca Rossi, one whose own face and body bore the brunt of his fury and anger when she came between him and us. My father was, after all, a psychopath. He bled out over a year ago on the very property where I was born.

We didn’t try to save him. It was time.

I wonder sometimes if mental illness is genetic. I wonder if it knocks on my own door, but I refuse to answer it. It’s the age-old question I think most men ask themselves at one point in their lives.

Will I become my father?

I fold my hands and listen to the gospel readings, chosen by my sister-in-law Angelina for the special occasion of her son’s baptism. My niece Natalia fidgets uncomfortably in her seat, and when she looks at me, I put my finger to my lips to remind her to be quiet. I soften the correction with a wink to show her I’m as bored as she is. With a sigh, she turns around and obeys.

Elise catches my eye. I feel my body go rigid, a coldness suffusing my limbs. She blinks and starts as if struck, then turns to Angelina and whispers something. Angelina hands her the sleeping baby dressed in the traditional white gown used for every Rossi family baptism.

Elise is my betrothed.

Elise and I didn’t choose this. Few of us in The Family ever do.

I think of every sacrament we endured within the walls of this church. While I was way too young to remember my own baptism, I remember Mario and Marialena’s, my younger brother’s and sister’s. I remember how Mama bought us small, matching tuxedos, and how my father made us polish our shoes. I remember my older brother Romeo making me and Orlando sit still when we fidgeted. I remember first Communions, a few of my cousins’ weddings, and the somber funeral for my father, probably the only funeral I’ve attended where not one person shed a tear. Romeo ordered champagne for the funeral brunch.

As I remember the sacraments we’ve celebrated here… I know why that broken tile’s never been replaced. Romeo himself probably ordered it kept there, since he’s the church’s largest benefactor and has a say in all repairs and projects. But that tile… it’s a stark yet subtle reminder of the power the Rossi family holds.

I’ve looked over my family’s bookkeeping for years. We singlehandedly support this church. There’s a reason why Saint Anthony’s is the most affluent in all of Massachusetts.

My brother Orlando clears his throat and wiggles his eyebrows at me. The whole church is silent, expectant, even the organ still as he waits for me. I’m baby Nicolo’s godfather. It’s time.

I stand and join Orlando, who beams as he walks to the altar beside his beautiful wife Angelina. They both smile at me, but I don’t share their joy. Angelina nearly threw my family into ruin. She forced my hand in ordering the execution of a man I never wanted to kill. It’s because of her I’m marrying the woman beside her.

“Come, godfather,” my future wife murmurs. “You’re supposed to stand beside me.” I don’t like her telling me what to do in even the most innocuous way, so when I give her a look that seems to startle her, she softens her tone. “Please.”

She bends her head toward the baby and nuzzles Nicolo’s soft, fuzzy head. His white satin bonnet has fallen to the side, attached loosely to the traditional gown with a matching satin ribbon. I watch as she kisses the baby and still doesn’t meet my eyes.

Beautiful, proud Elise Regazza walks by my side to the altar. A foreshadowing of things to come? We’ll walk this same path in only four weeks. But today, we’re the chosen godparents for Orlando and Angelina’s baby, so we take our place where we belong.

Elise Regazza may be many things—spoiled, headstrong, and materialistic, to name just a few—but the woman is lovely. Stunning, really. Shorter than me by about six inches, she still stands tall in chunky heels. She has the same light brown hair as Angelina, the one character trait that allowed them to pull a temporary identity switch at one time. Now, however, Angelina’s highlighted her hair lighter, making Elise’s look slightly darker in comparison.

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Oath of Obedience (Deviant Doms #2) Read Online Jane Henry http://www.ilovenovels.com/oath-of-obedience-deviant-doms-2-read-online-jane-henry Fri, 07 Jan 2022 21:37:33 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/oath-of-obedience-deviant-doms-2-read-online-jane-henry Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Romance Authors: Jane Henry Series: Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Oath of Obedience (Deviant Doms #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Jane Henry
Language:	English
Book Information:
Marriage to a stranger is only the beginning. She’ll have my baby, too. Many things have changed while I’ve been in prison. The Family has been decimated. Our enemies have gotten bolder. My brother has taken the reins as the new Boss. But one thing hasn’t changed: my loyalty. So when I’m released from prison only to be shackled to the daughter of our organization’s biggest traitor, I agree. My new wife has taken oaths to love, honor, and obey. I don’t want her affection. I don’t need her honor. But I will gladly take pleasure in her body. I will force her to carry my child. And I will have her obedience. But when the dark, dangerous secret she harbors threatens to destroy us, my unwilling bride will learn exactly how I mete out punishment to those who break their oaths…
Books in Series:	Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
Books by Author:	Jane Henry

CHAPTER 1

“My stars shine darkly over me.” ~ Twelfth Night, Shakespeare

Orlando

I wake up at the crack of dawn. No one tells me what to do, most especially the roll call asshole who clangs an alarm at six in the morning. So my eyes snap open at five, every morning.

My roommate snores gently, but it doesn’t bother me. I grew up with so many brothers and sisters, you just sort of ignore noises over time. They fade into the background like so much else. White noise.

There's a small window in here, a cell I earned for good behavior. The other cells are windowless when you’re not locked into solitary.

I push myself out of bed, slide down the bunk, and hit the floor. Nothing like waking the body up with a morning plank. I drop into plank position, forearms on the floor, abs tight, welcoming the burn in my muscles. Give myself thirty seconds to rest the abs before I’m up again, pushing myself to the point of muscle fatigue. I’m panting and sweating by the time I’m done. I stand, stretch, then hit the floor for push-ups.

“When I get out of this hellhole, remind me to have you on speed dial, bro,” Dario says, rolling over. He props himself up on one elbow and smiles, the flash of white against pink lips the only thing I see in the dark.

“Oh yeah? You startin’ up a fuckin’ bromance?” I say, panting, in between reps.

Dario chuckles and talks through a yawn. “Fuck that. You know if I wanted a bromance, would’ve hit on you when you were fresh outta the damn shower, not all sweaty and shit.”

I smile but don’t reply, my breath coming in short gasps, my muscles straining with the effort of doing push-ups. Last I checked, I hit a deuce and a half on the health office scale. Bulked up on purpose, but it’s not easy to fucking push two hundred fifty pounds up, especially before I’ve had my coffee. You make do in a small cell, though. I’ve worked my body hard since I’ve been in here, and I won’t stop.

Roll call comes and goes before the pay phone comes by, wheeled on a cart.

“Rossi. You’re up.”

The corrections officer shoves the call cart to me. I hear a murmur of voices from the next cell over and somebody mutters my name. Gotta be a new guy. Everyone else knows who the fuck I am.

“Don’t need a call today,” I tell him, turning my back on it before I grab the makeshift pull-up bar for another set of reps. He clears his throat. I ignore him.

“Nah, man. Incoming. Might ‘make’ that call today if I were you,” he says.

I pull up and feel the lengthening of muscles in my abs and back and welcome it.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He runs a hand through his hair, and I drop to the floor. I give him a sharp look. He knows something.

He takes a step back.

Good. Haven’t lost my fuckin’ touch in here. It’s better for me when a look works as well as a fist.

The officer’s young, thin, and ready to shit his pants. Never understood why guys like him didn’t pick another fucking job. Why corrections officer? Why voluntarily put yourself into a prison with inmates that scare you shitless?

I take the phone, and he flinches. I sigh. “Bronson. Leave, man. Go cook some fuckin’ books, will ya? They pay better than this hellhole, and you’d sleep better at night.” I shake my head and pick up the phone. Dario chuckles behind me.

I get a little knot in my throat when I hear Romeo. He’d been in Tuscany on business until last night. I’ve missed my older brother’s voice.

“Got a surprise for you, Orlando.”

I release a breath and run my fingers through my short, cropped hair. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Now if I tell you, wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

I smile, warming at the sound of his voice, the familiarity of talking with him. Fuck, I miss my family. “Guess not.”

“Be on the lookout, man. Around lunchtime.”

“Alright, if you say so.”

He chuckles, and I hear the whisper of a female voice in the background. Vittoria, his wife.

“Tell Vittoria I say hello. Any bambinos coming yet, man?”

He sighs. “Not yet,” he says in a low voice. “Ain’t for lack of trying.”

I groan. “Rub it in, why don’t you?” Still, I feel sorry for him. Rossi family tradition tells us that children are a king’s crown jewels, and that life is incomplete without little ones running around underfoot. Some might even say the Rossi family views children as a commodity, and it’s why my mother had so many.

I have other views, though. I think we helped her to not feel so lonely. Hell, maybe we still do.

Jesus, I miss them, all of them, even pain-in-the-ass Mario and bossy Rosa. Marialena, I miss most of all. My baby sister and I were always close and have grown even closer since my father’s passing.

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Oath of Silence (Deviant Doms #1) Read Online Jane Henry http://www.ilovenovels.com/oath-of-silence-deviant-doms-1-read-online-jane-henry Thu, 09 Dec 2021 07:26:53 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/oath-of-silence-deviant-doms-1-read-online-jane-henry Genre: Dark, Mafia, Romance, Suspense Authors: Jane Henry Series: Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
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Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	(Deviant Doms #1) Oath of Silence
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Jane Henry
Language:	English
Book Information:
I'll give her my ring to claim my crown. Vittoria DeSanto leaves me no choice. What she knows could destroy me. Destroy my family. And I won't allow that. She's homeless, penniless, powerless. I’ll give her the life of a mafia princess. Anything she desires will be hers… Except her freedom. Because our marriage will make me The Boss of the Rossi crime family. My word is law. All must respect my authority, Especially Vittoria. The stubborn woman will learn. Her place is by my side. In my bed. Over. My. Knee.
Books in Series:	Deviant Doms Series by Jane Henry
Books by Author:	Jane Henry

Prologue

Romeo

Twenty years earlier

A brisk wind kicked the dry, fallen leaves into mini tempests, camouflaging the secret trip to the quarry. Narciso “The Skull” Rossi, the head of the Rossi family and most feared man on the East Coast of America, loved the quarry, and so did his sons. Far from their mother’s prying and judgmental eyes, the quarry offered the perfect place to teach them life’s most important lessons.

How to hit on a girl.

How to command a room’s presence.

How to earn respect from those around you.

How to kill a man who betrays you.

Romeo Rossi, at thirteen years old, was the eldest brother of the six Rossi children. A rule enforcer and a natural-born leader, he occasionally liked to push the envelope.

So when their father went to Tuscany to visit the family home and conduct business overseas, he went to the quarry. Didn’t need the prying eyes of his younger siblings to tattle to Mama that Romeo was smoking again.

His father would only roll his eyes and tell him to roll his own damn smokes, but his mother despised the habit—no doubt because it reminded her of her husband’s own three-pack-a-day habit—and would punish him severely for such an infraction.

It wasn’t fear of punishment that drove Romeo to the quarry, though. In a bustling family of eight, privacy was a precious, rare commodity. And Romeo liked to be alone.

Leaning his back against a tree, Romeo reached into his pocket and drew out the pack of cigarettes. Putting one between his lips, he was returning the pack just as the sound of crunching leaves and twigs told him he’d been followed. His spine stiffened, his hand still on his back pocket. The lone, unlit cigarette still dangled from his lips.

He did a mental inventory of the weapons he had on his person. Rossi family boys never left home without a weapon, even when going to school or church or on a date. Especially a date.

Switchblade in his pocket, thin razor blade in his wallet, brand-new brass knuckles nestled in the hidden pocket of his jeans. Nothing too flashy, but they’d come in handy if push came to shove.

And the lighter. The lighter could be used if necessary as well.

Never one to cower and wait, Romeo’s temper flared. “Who’s there?”

No answer.

He flicked the blade open, relishing the reassuring heft of it in his palm and primed his senses, but before he could detect another sound, a loud crash sounded behind him. He swung, blade instinctively tucked by his side to hide it in case it was a cop.

“For fuck’s sake, Tavi.” Ottavio Rossi, Romeo’s younger brother and the second eldest brother in the Rossi family, gave Romeo a sheepish grin. Almost as tall as Romeo, Ottavio inherited the Rossi family height but unlike Romeo, had his mother’s lithe frame. With a shock of chestnut-brown hair he wore shorter than the others, combined with a thin pair of wire-rimmed glasses, he looked almost as old as Romeo, though he was three years younger.

“Sorry, Rome,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “Followed the little brats here.” He reached behind him and dragged tiny three-year-old Marialena and five-year-old Mario in front of him.

“I not a brat!” Marialena said, her pretty eyes flashing at both of them.

Mario stomped his foot. “Stop calling me that or I’ll tell Mama you’re smoking again.”

Ottavio rolled his eyes, and Romeo glared.

“You two—”

“Three,” came an amused voice to Ottavio’s right, and Orlando stepped into the light. “Sorry. I didn’t know you guys were here.”

“Jesus,” Romeo groaned. “I came here to be alone, not tagged along by the whole damn family.”

“Not the whole family,” Orlando corrected. “And I could say the same. I came here to read, not to babysit.” He rolled his eyes at Marialena, and tucked his worn paperback into his back pocket.

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