![\"PERVERSION](\"https:\/\/ssp2017.files.wordpress.com\/2018\/09\/perversion-exceprt-reveal1.jpg\")
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| Hoje n\u00f3s temos um pequeno trecho do livro Perversion, da autora T.M. Frazier<\/td>\n | Today we have an excerpt of Perversion, by T.M. Frazier.<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n Synopsis<\/b><\/p>\n Love is supposed to be magical.<\/span><\/p>\n Ours is suicidal.<\/span><\/p>\n The first time I met Emma Jean Parish,<\/span><\/p>\n she conned me into taking her p*ssy.<\/span><\/p>\n Her <\/span>cat.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n When she was sixteen,<\/span><\/p>\n she manipulated me into giving her<\/span><\/p>\n her very first kiss.<\/span><\/p>\n At eighteen she gave me <\/span>everything.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n She’s a con artist.<\/span><\/p>\n I’m a criminal.<\/span><\/p>\n I use her.<\/span><\/p>\n She manipulates me.<\/span><\/p>\n The attraction between us is explosive.<\/span><\/p>\n When it detonates<\/span><\/p>\n we could both wind up dead.<\/span><\/p>\n PERVERSION IS BOOK ONE IN THE PERVERSION TRILOGY<\/span><\/p>\n BOOK TWO: POSSESSION<\/span><\/p>\n BOOK THREE: PERMISSION<\/span><\/p>\n Emma Jean<\/b><\/p>\n When I was younger, I fell in love with magic. I learned every card trick there was from library books and unmasking magic TV specials. I used to put on shows for Gabby that included escaping from complicated knots and trick handcuffs. But what\u2019s magic besides a sleight of hand? <\/span><\/p>\n It\u2019s a lie. <\/span><\/p>\n And lying is what I\u2019m damn good at. <\/span><\/p>\n My ability to spin a tall tale or two lead to stealing wallets and conning people into taking stray pets for the thrill of it. Now, I\u2019m using it to earn for Marco. The thrill is there, but it\u2019s muted, hindered, lost under his pile of mounting threats. <\/span><\/p>\n The inside of the casino smells like stale cigarettes, spilled beer, and burnt coffee. We\u2019re not supposed to be in here. It\u2019s Bedlam territory. But that\u2019s also why it\u2019s perfect. <\/span><\/p>\n It isn\u2019t like anyone would recognize us here. <\/span><\/p>\n We\u2019ve made friends with a few of the cocktail waitresses by giving them a small cut, and they don\u2019t ask questions or ring any alarms when they see us working. I\u2019ve also been straightening my hair over the last few years since my crazy curls stand out like a reflector on a dark highway. I\u2019ve dyed it a few shades darker than my normal honey blonde to help blend in. <\/span><\/p>\n Tonight is starting off well. Gabby and I are working a con we\u2019ve run a few times before. <\/span><\/p>\n Gabby walks away, her long dark hair swooshing behind her. She gives me a nod as she passes me by on the slot machine I\u2019m pretending to play. She\u2019s just faked losing an expensive engagement ring at another slot machine. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she frantically looked around for it, then loudly announced a thousand-dollar reward would be waiting at the casino cage for whoever returned it. <\/span><\/p>\n She is flawless. She should be an actress. And in another life, she would be. <\/span><\/p>\n But we don\u2019t live in another life. <\/span><\/p>\n We live in Lacking and belong to Los Muertos. <\/span><\/p>\n Our lives are not our own. <\/span><\/p>\n A few people casually look around the area, then return to their machines when they don\u2019t find the ring Gabby was ranting about. They won\u2019t either. Because it\u2019s not there. <\/span><\/p>\n Yet. <\/span><\/p>\n It’s go time. <\/span><\/p>\n I strut over to the area Gabby just left and put a dollar in the machine. While the wheels spin, I pretend to pick up the dime store ring I already have in my hand. By the time the machine dings to tell me I\u2019ve lost my dollar, I\u2019m turning the ring over, inspecting it like I don\u2019t have half a dozen more just like it in my drawer back at the apartment. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWould you look at that?\u201d I mutter to myself loud enough so others around me can hear. <\/span><\/p>\n A man in an Adidas jumpsuit with a potbelly taps me on the shoulder. \u201cI\u2019ll take that. I saw the woman who dropped it. I\u2019ll go return it to her.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n Liar. You just want the reward. <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s so nice of you,\u201d I say. I hold it out, about to drop it into his hand when I pull it back. \u201cI bet there\u2019s a reward for something this valuable.\u201d I start to walk around the man. \u201cI\u2019ll take it up to management. Maybe, they know\u2026\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHere,\u201d the man says, holding up a hundred-dollar bill. \u201cTake this. I\u2019ll take it to her. I just\u2026you know, as I said, I want to make sure it gets back to the right person.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n You\u2019re not even a good liar. <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n Sometimes, it\u2019s just too freaking easy. And this scam wasn\u2019t even an Emma Jean and Gabby original. We saw it a long time ago in a movie starring Jennifer Love Hewitt. Doesn\u2019t anyone else watch movies? <\/span><\/p>\n I shrug and pass him the ring. Plucking the bill from his hand, I tuck it into my bra. \u201cThanks,\u201d I say before quickly making my way toward the large glass front doors. It\u2019s Thursday. Marco\u2019s money is due in two days, and we\u2019re short this week. <\/span><\/p>\n Really short. <\/span><\/p>\n I walk slowly and wave goodbye to the valets with a smile on my face. \u201cAny luck, tonight?\u201d One asks me. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI think so,\u201d I answer with a smile. Once I\u2019m down the sidewalk and out of view, I scramble to the side of the casino where I kick off my heels and change from the sequined dress I\u2019d stolen from a dry-cleaner into a pair of cut-off shorts and my yellow Keds. <\/span><\/p>\n Now, all I have to do is wait for Gabby. <\/span><\/p>\n I don\u2019t have to wait long. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cRun!\u201d Gabby yells, darting from the doors of the casino with two large men wearing tight black security t-shirts close behind. Running from security is terrifying enough, knowing that we\u2019re running from members of the Bedlam Brotherhood kicks it up a notch. <\/span><\/p>\n I grab my backpack and sling it across my shoulders. I move as fast as I can until I\u2019m running right alongside her. We race through the gates, cross the street, narrowly avoiding being hit by two cars. We duck into a hole in a fence and run through one backyard after the other. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOne of those cunt waitresses must have tipped them off!\u201d Gabby says, through shallow breaths. She\u2019s barefoot in a black mini-dress hiked up to her ass to give her long legs room to run. Her long thick hair is wrapped around her face, sticking to her mouth. <\/span><\/p>\n We hit the sixth backyard. Without another word, we separate behind a clothesline. We\u2019ve mapped out this escape plan a thousand times, but this is the first time we\u2019ve ever had to use it. <\/span><\/p>\n When I make it into the central part of town, to the Los Muertos\/Bedlam border, I can no longer hear the shouts of the security guards. I lost them. <\/span><\/p>\n Hopefully, Gabby did, too.<\/span><\/p>\n I use a tower of stacked-up wooden pallets on the sidewalk like a ladder to scale a concrete wall, then drop down into the alley.<\/span><\/p>\n I grow more panic-stricken the longer I wait for Gabby. I bite the inside of my lip, pacing back and forth along the high wall. The Bedlam Brotherhood runs the security at the casino. If they catch her and find out who she is? Or worse? Who her brother is? They’ll… I shake the thought from my mind. She\u2019ll be fine. <\/span><\/p>\n She HAS to be fine. <\/span><\/p>\n Please be okay, Gabby. Please. <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n I\u2019m trying to catch my breath and pull myself together when I hear a clink echo through the alley as if someone dropped some spare change, followed by the sound of something heavy dropping to the asphalt.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cGabby?\u201d I ask into the darkness. Thinking it\u2019s her, relief washes over me like rain on a barren desert. <\/span><\/p>\n My only answer is the flickering of a fluorescent light mounted high on the roof\u2019s edge of the adjoining building. And the hiss of what sounds like a cat behind a dumpster. <\/span><\/p>\n I walk over and peer around it. \u201cGabby? Are you hurt? Say something!\u201d I whisper-shout. <\/span><\/p>\n Someone moves from within the shadow. \u201cGet out here, Gabby. We\u2019ve got to go before Mar\u2026\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n The light flickers again, for just a second. That second is all I need to see that the someone slowly stalking toward me is not Gabby. <\/span><\/p>\n It\u2019s a man\u2026twice my size. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWho are you?\u201d I ask, shuffling backward as the man cloaked in a black leather hood emerges from the shadows. The front of his jacket is open. Underneath, he’s shirtless, covered in a sheen of sweat, and more tattoos than visible skin all the way up the front of his throat. His muscled chest and abs flex with each step he takes. The hood shadows most of his face, but when the lights flicker again, yellow eyes glow from within. <\/span><\/p>\n And they\u2019re locked on me. <\/span><\/p>\n My \u2018save your ass\u2019 mode kicks in. <\/span><\/p>\n The man is blocking the only exit. My only other chance of escape is to scale the same wall I used to drop into the alley. <\/span><\/p>\n I keep moving backward as he approaches until my back hits the wall. I look left and right for something to use to climb on. <\/span><\/p>\n There\u2019s nothing but emptiness. <\/span><\/p>\n My stomach sinks, but surrender is not an option. <\/span><\/p>\n I swallow hard as the alarm bells scream in my head for me to run. Somewhere. Anywhere. <\/span><\/p>\n There\u2019s nowhere to go! <\/span><\/p>\n My legs tremble. Fear crawls like a million spiders along the backs of my legs. I push myself further against the wall as if I can squish the feeling away, but it\u2019s useless. <\/span><\/p>\n Fear consumes me. Swallows me whole. <\/span><\/p>\n He continues toward me. As he gets closer, I realize it\u2019s not just sweat glistening on his skin. There\u2019s something else splattered across the tattoos on his chest and on his stubbled jaw. <\/span><\/p>\n It almost looks like wet paint. <\/span><\/p>\n My breathing stops when he\u2019s close enough that I can make out the tattoo on the front of his throat. <\/span><\/p>\n A bleeding black rose. <\/span><\/p>\n The symbol of the Bedlam Brotherhood. <\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019ve heard stories about Grim. The man in the hood. The executioner for Bedlam. They were all terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as the reality of coming face to face with the man himself. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWe didn\u2019t do anything,\u201d I blurt. \u201cI mean, we did, but it wasn\u2019t a big deal. I\u2019ll\u2026I\u2019ll give the money back. Just tell your men not to hurt my friend. It was all my idea. Let her go, and you can take me.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWho the fuck are you?\u201d he asks. His voice is so thick and deep I feel it more than hear it. Shivers erupt all over my body. <\/span><\/p>\n He raises his arm, revealing a long curved blade.<\/span><\/p>\n For the first time in my life, I can\u2019t seem to be able to hide my fear with my wit or sarcasm. My throat tightens. I can\u2019t swallow, never mind speak. I\u2019ve lost my words completely, along with my nerve. <\/span><\/p>\n The man\u2019s blade drips red onto the pavement from the serrated tip. <\/span><\/p>\n Every fear response I didn\u2019t even know I had runs rampant. I\u2019m holding my breath. My muscles tense as if running was still an option. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck prickle my skin as they stand on end. I raise up to my tip-toes and push back, trying to make myself disappear into the wall. <\/span><\/p>\n I glance from the knife back to his chest, then back again. The splatters across his skin? <\/span><\/p>\n It\u2019s not fucking paint. <\/span><\/p>\n Before I can process what the hell is happening, he switches from slow-stalking mode into hyper-speed, pinning my wrists above my head. His hard, bloodied chest pushes against me, smearing blood across my white tank top, forcing the back of my head to connect roughly with the wall. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll only ask you this one more time. Who the fuck are you?\u201d His low guttural growl rattles my bones. <\/span><\/p>\n His unblinking, angry, golden eyes lock onto mine. Without the fluorescent light, they\u2019re more golden brown than a glowing yellow. As much as I want to, I can\u2019t look away. He could be the last person I ever see. <\/span><\/p>\n The thought is just the spike of adrenaline I need. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cLet me go,\u201d I say, finally finding my words. I try and jerk my wrists from his grip with no luck. I\u2019m trapped. My fear and anger rise to the surface, but I shove it back down. Fear won\u2019t get me out of this situation, so it will have to wait for its damned turn. <\/span><\/p>\n He digs his rough fingers into my skin. \u201cAnswer me. Who the fuck are you?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n The bite of pain only makes me angrier. I throw his question back at him. \u201cWho the fuck are you?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n He glances down at my rapidly rising and falling chest before pinning me with his stare. The corner of his mouth tugs up in a half-smirk. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cSo much confidence for someone who’s trembling,\u201d he says with an amused glint shining in his demonic eyes. <\/span><\/p>\n I shrug. \u201cMaybe, I\u2019m just not a fan of enclosed spaces,\u201d I say through gritted teeth. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou didn\u2019t answer me,\u201d he says. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhy do you have blood all over you?\u201d I answer him with yet another question. \u201cYou know, if you were committing some kind of crime back there, you should be more careful. I recommend a bleach bath and death by fire for your clothes the first chance you get. If it\u2019s self-harm, I\u2019m sure there\u2019s a helpline you can call.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n He cocks his head to the side. His nostrils flare. His face is only inches away. I can feel the heat from his body against mine. His cool breath flutters against my neck. <\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019ve never been this close to a man before. My trembling grows. My inner thighs shake sending a rippling wave of something very unfamiliar coursing through the center my body. I try and press my legs together to stop it from happening again, but when he uses his knee to wedge my legs apart, caging me in even further, it only grows, uncoiling from within like a slinky being pulled apart at the ends. <\/span><\/p>\n I swallow hard as the stubble of his jaw presses against my neck. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cName,\u201d he demands, his voice raspier than before. <\/span><\/p>\n I shut my eyes tight for a beat, trying to gain composure, control, something that will help me as I try and reason my way out of this. \u201cListen, I didn\u2019t see anything,\u201d I blurt. \u201cThat is if you did anything. I\u2019m not going to call the police if that\u2019s what you’re worried about. I wouldn\u2019t anyway, even if I saw something, which I didn\u2019t.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n His brows knit together in a harsh line. \u201cWhy?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n His question confuses me. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhy what?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhy wouldn\u2019t you tell the police?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n Because Marco owns them. <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s just say that I haven\u2019t exactly been a model citizen myself tonight. Let\u2019s face it. If the police around here weren\u2019t being paid not to do their jobs, half this town would be locked up.\u201d I take a deep, shaky breath. \u201cEspecially people like us.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n He stills. There\u2019s no more talking. Only heavy breathing and a battle of wills. He releases one of my hands. I think he\u2019s reaching for his knife. My blood turns cold. I can feel my face pale as my heart starts beating as faster and faster as if it wants to get in as many as possible before the end. <\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019m surprised when he doesn\u2019t go for his knife. Instead, his hand travels slowly down my chest into my cleavage. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNo, don\u2019t!\u201d I say, but it\u2019s too late, he\u2019s already yanked on my locket.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cPlease just give it back, and let me go,\u201d I plead. Feeling like it\u2019s my real heart he’s torn from my chest. \u201cIt\u2019s the only thing in this world that means anything to me. Besides my best friend, it\u2019s all I have.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n I hate the desperation in my voice, but it\u2019s the truth. <\/span><\/p>\n He\u2019s silent for a moment. He raises his arms. I flinch, raising my arms over my face defensively. But when nothing happens, I lower them, just in time to see him push back his hood, revealing his face. <\/span><\/p>\n |
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