The VIOLENT Series: The Complete Boxed Set

by Linnea May

  For every sick person out there with these dark desires and needs, there is someone else who is willing to serve those demands. I found my match in her.

  She has changed clothes when she returns from her bedroom, and is now wearing a black dress, topped with silk tights and a black flower in her ash blonde hair.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I just thought this would be more suitable for…”

  She bites her lip and lowers her eyes. I know that this is harder for her than she wants to let on.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “I think you’re right. And you look lovely no matter what.”

  “I will change back into the dress you gave me, once we’re… done,” she promises.

  I get up from the couch, placing my hands on her shoulders.

  “Look at me, my pet,” I command her.

  She raises her eyes up to mine, sadness reflected in their gray-blue depths.

  “Don’t ever apologize for yourself,” I say. “Especially for something like this.”

  She nods. “Yes, Master.”

  Our lips meet for a slow and soft kiss, comforting in ways that words could never be. My hand rests below her ear, while my thumb caresses her cheek as our breaths mingle. I don’t break our kiss until I know I can no longer resist the urge to want more. We have things to attend to.

  “Are you ready?” I ask her, and she nods, a sad smile fleeting across her face.

  The drive to the cemetery is long and filled with pensive silence. Liana is sitting next to me with a white French daisy bouquet resting in her lap, as she stares out the window. She takes a deep breath when we pull up to the cemetery and I park the car.

  “Do you want to be by yourself?” I ask her, before she opens the door.

  She looks at me, her face already lined with a sorrow I cannot take away from her.

  “No,” she says after a moment. “Please come with me.”

  “Alright.”

  I walk next to her while we follow the directions she’s been given to find his grave. She’s gripping my hand tightly, while pressing the flowers against her chest with the other.

  “I’ve never had to say goodbye to someone,” she says in barely more than a whisper. “Not like this.”

  “It’s the hardest thing we as people have to endure, if you ask me,” I say. “It’s bad enough to be aware of our own mortality, but to be faced with it when we have to say goodbye to others is even worse.”

  I can feel her eyes on me from the side, but am not ready to return the look.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I forgot that you’ve had a much harder parting in your life.”

  I shake my head.

  “It was hard,” I say. “But it’s true what they say about time. It’s the only thing that really can heal all wounds. Even the ones that run as deep as mine.”

  She squeezes my hand in lieu of a reply. We walk a few more steps in silence, not encountering another person, which is probably because of the murky weather. It’s foggy and cold, providing a perfectly gloomy atmosphere in this deserted cemetery.

  “This is it,” she says, as she stops in front of a newer-looking tombstone.

  She freezes in front of it, her lips parted as she lets go of my hand.

  “Professor Miller,” she whispers, and as soon as she says the name, a tear rolls down her pale cheek.

  I want to touch her, hug her, take the pain of grief away from her, but I know I can’t. This is something she will have to overcome herself, and I know she will.

  There are many things I can do for her, though. And I vow to do every single one of them.

  I’m relieved to see her smiling as she goes down on her knees to place the bouquet on the grave.

  “A tombstone that looks like an opened book,” she says, directed toward the grave. “Just plain and simple, with no silly quote. I bet you’re glad they didn’t bother with any of that nonsense.”

  She gets back up on her feet, still smiling.

  “He hated it when people expressed themselves with quotes,” she explains, wiping away her tears as she turns to me. “He always called it lazy.”

  I smile. “Smart man.”

  “He was, very straightforward, and a great mentor,” she tells me. “I’m going to miss him.”

  I wrap my arm around her, pulling her closer, while she finally gets a chance to grieve the man who was more than just a boss to her.

  We stay for a few more minutes, standing mostly in silence. I want to give her all the time she needs, and wait until she asks to leave.

  “Goodbye,” she says as we turn away from the grave.

  Her words are heavy with meaning, addressing not only her former boss but an entire life she leaves behind.

  Then we turn to head back toward the car and the new life that awaits us.

  Epilog

  Liana

  “Are you sure this is okay?” I ask, nervously playing with my new dress. “And my hair? You don’t think I should do more with it?”

  Joseph fixes the cuff on his suit and smiles at me through the reflection in the mirror.

  “You look fantastic, Liana,” he says. “Stop worrying so much.”

  “Mhm,” I say, trying to catch my delirious breath.

  I pace up and down the width of the bedroom, trying to think of things I still have to do before we drive to the airport, but there’s nothing left. Nothing needs to be cleaned, baked, prepared. There’s nothing to occupy my busy mind.

  “You are so adorable,” Joseph comments from across the room, now walking over to me. “What are you so worried about?”

  I look up at him. It’s been six months since we’ve come to the end of our arrangement. Six months during which I turned my life around with his help.

  Despite our uninterrupted first thirty-nine days together, I was reluctant to move in with him when he asked me to. I’ve made the mistake of moving too fast before. Luke and I moved in together after only knowing each other for a few weeks, and I swore to myself that I wouldn’t repeat that same mistake.

  Of course, with Joseph things are different. So very different. It was a stubborn certainty that things would fall apart that kept me from agreeing to do the thing that felt truly natural with him. This house had become my home before I was even willing to let it happen. It’s outside the city, the countryside, a place I never thought I’d want to live.

  But things change. I changed. I’ve come to love the calm landscape, the beautiful estate surrounding our mansion, the gardens and the sound of birds replacing the constant rush of traffic that I’m used to. Besides, the city with all its hustle and bustle is not far away.

  Saying goodbye to the apartment that carried so many bad memories of my former relationship was the easiest part of all. I was glad to leave it behind.

  Yet I’ve only officially been living with him for two months now, and I still catch myself calling it his home instead of ours. For some reason, Joseph thought that this would change once we invite two people who’d welcome me into this home just as much as he does.

  His grandparents. The people who raised him and who turned his life around for the better.

  They’re on their way here now, and we are about to leave for Logan Airport to pick them up.

  “I’m just so nervous,” I say, my entire body shaking. “I mean, meeting family, that’s huge. And, it’s you. Your grandparents.”

  He chuckles and places a kiss on my cheek.

  “You say that as if I was someone to be scared of,” he whispers. “Or them.”

  I shake my head.

  “I just want them to like me,” I say, knowing how silly that must sound.

  “They’ll love you,” he promises. “I mean, I do. I never thought I’d deserve to be loved by a woman like you. And I didn’t think I was capable of giving love in return.”

  He pauses, his dark hazel eyes fixating on mine with intent.

  “You proved me wrong,” he adds. “If I can’t resist your charm, how could
anyone else, especially my grandparents?”

  He kisses me again, his finger tracing along the sterling silver that adorns my neck.

  I’m wearing my day collar, a subtle silver chain with a ring-shaped decor at the front. It sits rather snugly around my throat, but other than that, it can pass off as just another piece of jewelry. An innocent necklace my loving boyfriend bought for me.

  I was a little heartbroken when he took my collar away on that day we left his house together for the first time. But he soon replaced it with this, after giving me a few days to decide whether I really wanted to be with him, all things considered.

  I didn’t need those few days, but I took them anyway, trying to sort out my life and even considering what it would be like without him in it.

  But I knew I couldn’t return to my old life. I knew it when I said my goodbye at the cemetery, and that certainty only grew during the days I had to spend away from him to think about everything.

  I’m perfectly happy where I am right now. Happy, not just content.

  And that’s something I’ve never been able to say before.

  “You’re sure they won’t notice?” I ask him, pointing to my collar.

  He shakes his head.

  “You’d have to know what it is to understand,” he says. “And if you know what it is, you don’t ask about it.”

  He pauses and laughs.

  “Besides, I highly doubt my grandparents are in to any of this,” he adds. “They’re good people.”

  “Oh, and we’re not?” I ask him teasingly.

  Joseph places his palm against my cheek, smiling lovingly at me.

  “No, my pet,” he says in a soft voice.

  “We are us.”

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  Can’t get enough? Continue reading with the 2nd novel in this series VIOLENT CRAVINGS – on the next page!

  Violent Cravings

  Blurb

  I will break every single rule to make her mine.

  My life has always been defined by the extreme. I don’t balance - I’m an all or nothing kind of man.

  Doesn’t sound healthy? It sure as hell isn’t.

  Giving in to my cravings has almost ruined my life before and I’m not going to let it happen again.

  That’s why I need rules. A strict regulation to keep my head in place.

  Once a year. A different girl each time. No exclusivity – no addiction.

  Laura is fueling my hunger like no girl ever has before.

  But she’s not on the menu.

  Taking her is against the rules.

  Keeping her could ruin me.

  …Or finally appease the monster within me.

  “Something unappeased, unappeasable, is within me.”

  ― Friedrich Nietzsche, ‚Thus Spoke Zarathustra‘

  Prologue

  Ryan

  This girl is trouble.

  I knew it from the first moment I saw her, and I’m an idiot for thinking that my obsession would sort itself out once I had her.

  She’s kneeling before me, her body marked in various places, sweaty strands of brown hair sticking to her face, her make-up smeared across her pale cheeks, her bruised chest heaving under heavy frantic breaths, and the vibrant green of her eyes locked on me – asking – no begging – for more.

  She’s not ready to leave, and I’m not ready to let her go.

  But I will have to release her back into the world soon.

  Just an hour, that is all we have left. An hour before I have to remove her collar and the leather shackles from around her wrists.

  An hour before she will cease to be mine.

  The thought is gut-twisting.

  But I will make that final hour count. I have to make it count.

  Every moment with her is cherished. The same thing applied to all the others before her, but not a single one of them made my chest ache so painfully at the thought of having to let them go. Everything has been different with her from the get-go.

  She was never supposed to be here. She wasn’t part of the menu that usually serves to satisfy my cravings.

  I broke the first rule by bringing her here, and I’ve broken so many more rules since.

  This has to stop.

  I drop down to my knees in front of her. We connect at eye level, the intensity of my expression matching her vivid gaze when I bring the palm of my right hand up to brush her cheek. She leans instinctively into my touch, and under all the dried-up tears and the traces of pain, she smiles at me.

  No words are needed for me to know that she feels it, too, that magnetic attraction pulling us together. Yet my heart nearly bursts when she parts her lips to whisper the words that can bring a man like me down to his knees.

  “Thank you, master.”

  Her voice is soft and full of forgiveness, piercing like a blade right into my shielded heart.

  I never should have bought her.

  I promised myself that I would never lose control again. My addiction has almost ruined my life before, and I vowed to never let it happen again. That’s why we’re here. That’s why I paid her to be with me for just this one night. That’s why I will have to say goodbye to her as soon as our time is up.

  We have one hour.

  The same as an alcoholic can’t simply just have a drink anytime he wants, I can’t have sex like a normal person.

  I can only allow to indulge in my cravings once a year.

  A twisted annual retreat in the company of a new girl each time. I need the change. After all, what’s the point in exclusivity if I can only do this once every twelve months? Only an idiot would stick to having sex with the same woman every time.

  And only an idiot would ignore the alarming warning signals surrounding me left and right. I’ve been hearing them ever since I first spoke to her, and I’ve been ignoring each and every single one of them, confident I could handle this.

  I knew there was risk. There always is when an addict gets a taste of what he should stay away off.

  But I may have underestimated her.

  My doll.

  She’s capable of ruining my life.

  I have no other choice than to go cold turkey after I’m done with her, no matter how agonizing it may be for me.

  I’ve done it before, and I can do it again.

  I’ve got this. I know what I’m doing. I’ll be fine.

  But until then, I will make her mine in every way possible, leaving my mark on her perfect body, on her open heart, and on her brilliant mind.

  I may have to forget about her after we part ways.

  But one thing is for sure.

  She sure as hell won’t forget me.

  Chapter 1

  Laura

  Tonight is a four-hour event. Four long, draining hours full of pretentious assholes, leering glances assessing and undressing me, and ungrateful ignorance, while I serve the richest of the rich, hurrying around in an uncomfortably tight uniform. The short pencil skirt moves up my thigh with every step I take, forcing me to constantly adjust it as I graciously balance a small, round serving tray. The starched white blouse and the black vest are so tight on my diaphragm that I can hardly breathe. The material is heavy, and I start breaking into a sweat after only a few minutes on the floor. I hate wearing this uniform and can’t wait to get out of it.

  But the event just started. The waiters are lined up behind the bar, ready to serve, each of us shifting around as we try to get comfortable in the restrictive outfits we’ve been forced to wear. The girls had been asked to wear black heels, and I got scolded for my choice of shoes as soon as I walked in the door. Because I’m so tall, I don’t even own a pair of high heels, and I refuse to
spend any of my limited savings on fancy shoes that I would only ever wear for this job. Even in my black ballerina flats, I tower several inches above every other serving girl here, and most of the guests. If I wore heels, I’d likely be the tallest person here, man or woman. My friend Layla, who’s standing next to me, is a petite girl. She‘s trying to make up for her small stature by wearing five-inch stilettos. They may make her almost as tall as me, but it also adds a tremendous amount of physical pain to an already strenuous evening.

  We watch in silence as the room starts filling with guests, waiting anxiously to be called upon by Angelo, our boss tonight. He’s standing across the festive hall, his hands locked behind his back and his chin up, a focused smile unique to him affixed on his face.

  “Ten bucks says he’s hoping to go home with one of the moneybags tonight,” Layla whispers. She winks at me, and we giggle.

  “We should make a bet on who it’s going to be,” I whisper back, careful to make sure that she’s the only one who can hear me. “Most of them are going to be old as dirt.”

  “Pretty sure he likes that,” Layla retorts. “To have himself a silver fox sugar daddy.”

  I bite my lips to suppress another giggle. Getting up to nonsense with Layla makes this job way more bearable, especially when it includes making fun of Angelo, who tends to be overly strict about minor things. I don’t know what I would do without Layla. She’s my very best friend and always there, and I’m glad to know that she’ll come with me, ready to take on another town, another chance. We’ve been planning our escape for a while now, but lately things have started really falling into place.

  This city holds nothing but dark memories for me. It has become an even more sorrowful place since my mother died.