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Narrator: Ryan West
Series: Torpedo Ink #6
Also in this series: Judgment Road , Judgment Road, Vengeance Road, Vendetta Road, Desolation Road, Reckless Road, Savage Road, Annihilation Road, Recovery Road
Publication Date: December 28, 2021
Point-of-View: Alternating Third
Genres: Paranormal Romance
Length: 17 hours and 47 minutes
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All paths lead to destruction in the new Torpedo Ink novel from #1 New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan.
Savin “Savage” Pajari is convinced he’s not worth a damn thing. He’s not like his brothers. He’s a sadistic monster, a killer—a man no woman could truly love. So it completely throws him when a stranger risks her life for his, pushing him out of the way and taking the hit that would have sent him six feet under. If he had any kind of sense, he’d leave her alone, but Savage can’t get the woman with a smart mouth and no sense of self-preservation out of his head. With one kiss, he’s lost.
Seychelle Dubois has spent her entire life not feeling much of anything, until Savage comes along and sets her whole body on fire. Kissing him was a mistake. Letting him get close would be a catastrophe. He’s the most beautiful—and damaged—man she’s ever met. He has a way of getting under her skin, and what he’s offering is too tempting to resist.
Seychelle knows so little about Savage or the dangerous world of Torpedo Ink, but his darkness draws her like a moth to a flame. Loving him could mean losing herself completely to his needs—needs she doesn’t understand but is eager to learn. But what Savage teaches her could destroy her.
Savage stood there blocking her path, knowing it would be a mistake to kiss her again, but the craving was there. Seychelle just waited, not in the least concerned that she was seemingly alone with Savage, a Torpedo Ink sergeant at arms. He leaned in to her deliberately, wrapped his palm around the nape of her neck and put his lips against her ear.
“You aren’t nearly as safe as you think.”
Her blue eyes stared directly into his and there was a hint of laughter that sent his cock into a frenzy of urgent need. She wrapped her hand around his upper arm, or tried to, but her hand barely made it halfway around his biceps. That didn’t deter her. She put her lips against his ear, going on her toes to do it.
“You’re so full of shit.” She pulled back immediately. “I have work to do, my darling fake fiancé. Step aside.”
He’d never wanted to kiss a woman more. Okay, he’d never wanted to fuck a woman more. He stepped back from the temptation. She was pure sin and he needed her. He wasn’t comfortable needing anyone, let alone a woman. She had a smart mouth on her. He loved that about her. She also wasn’t afraid of him when everyone else was. He didn’t know how to take that. She even appeared to think he was amusing when he was seriously warning her. She didn’t believe he was attracted to her. That much was clear. He found himself wanting to smile again.
He let her go around him. She didn’t look back when she went inside. His brothers immediately came out of the shadows.
“What the hell was that, Savage?” Maestro demanded.
“I told you I know her,” he said.
“Yeah, you know her. You said she wasn’t one of your weird fucks. I want that woman singing in our band.”
Master nodded. “Shocked the hell out of me, but she’s damned good.”
“You can’t fuck this up for us because she’s got a nice ass,” Player said.
Keys just looked at Savage and then shook his head. “You might as well pack it in, brothers, he’s gone on this chick.”
Savage didn’t deny it. He just gave them the death stare. What was there to say? It was true, but he wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it. He wished she were one of his weird fucks. It would make life so much easier for both of them. She was far more than that. She’d never be just another one of his weird fucks.
“She’ll sing for you. Preacher needs another bartender. You said so yourself, Maestro. She can fill in when you’re not singing. She lives in Sea Haven, so that’s a plus.”
“It won’t be a plus when you kick her to the curb,” Maestro said. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a real singer? One like her? It’s nearly impossible.”
“She isn’t kick-to-the-curb material, is she, Savage?” Keys asked.
Savage didn’t answer him. He had no idea what he was going to do with Seychelle.
“If she joins the band,” Player said, “we have an obligation to her. She’d be under our protection.”
Savage turned cold eyes on him. Inside, all the unfamiliar amusement, all the fun he’d had sparring with Seychelle, faded away to be replaced by that ice-cold rage. “No one interferes with her. She’s under my protection. What happens between the two of us is ours alone. You’re my brothers, but she belongs to me and I expect you to respect that and have my back.”
There was absolute silence. It wasn’t as if he could blame them, and worse, deep inside, he had no idea what the hell he was doing. He had no business claiming a woman. He knew it. They knew it. Half the time he couldn’t be in anyone’s company. Violence rode hard on his shoulders when the devil was on him. The death in his eyes was real. He was barely civilized and most of the time he hung on to sanity by a thread.
It wasn’t as if Seychelle was a biker bitch who knew the rules of the game. She was no patch chaser, wanting the protection of the club and some man to take care of her. She didn’t even appear all that interested in him or the club. If anything, she was more amused by him than attracted to him. He pulled back, thinking about that kiss they’d shared. The one he still tasted in his mouth. Now he wasn’t going to get her out of his mind. Not that he’d been able to before.
“Savage,” Maestro said, caution in his voice. “This woman. I don’t know that much about her, just the little that Code gave me before we came here, but she seems to be someone we ordinarily would consider off-limits.”
Savage shook his head. “She’s going to say yes to singing with you, but you just remember what I said. Seychelle belongs to me. That’s the bottom line.” He turned on his heel and stalked back into the bar. Already she was interfering with their club. That was the kind of woman she was. Shit.
From ANNIHILATION ROAD published by arrangement with Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright © 2021 by Christine Feehan.
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