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Monday, February 4, 2019

Ardent Prose PR Presents: Vicious Looks by Loki Renard; #ReleaseBlitz, #NowAvailable, #OutNow, #TBR, #Live

Kitty's crossed the wrong people, and now her life is is in danger.
I have the power to save her. But I'm no hero.

She'll pay her dues.
Obey my rules.
Kitty's going to work for me.

If she's a good Kitty, she'll be well compensated.
If she's a bad Kitty, my bed awaits.

This city rewards the strong, punishes the weak, and destroys the innocent.
So do I.

A little whimper escapes me as I lie on the floor at his feet. It’s barely audible above the rumbling of the tires over New York streets, the occasional pot hole jolting me, the van swaying and sending me sliding gently across the floor when we go around corners. Large hands steady me. Are they his? Or is it the people who work for him keeping me from slamming my head into the sides of the van? Why does it matter? My mind is searching for some context. Why is this happening to me? I can’t think of anything specific, but almost anything is possible.
Breathe, I tell myself. Just breathe.
Right now, my breath is all I have control over. I try to slow it, stop it from being panicky and fast. I try to make it deep, from the belly. I need to be calm. Calm is the only way to survive.
I’m also trying to time how long the trip takes. It’s hard to keep a sense of it, but I still have my phone on me. It’s tucked into a little band inside the waist of my leggings. That could make all the difference later on. Even if I don’t know where I am in the end, I may be able to tell people how far I’ve been taken.
Twenty minutes after being taken, we stop. I’m dragged out of the van and carried somewhere. They don’t say a word, but I can hear gravel crunching beneath their feet, then going silent as they step onto firmer surface.
I’m put into a chair. The zip ties come off, but new bindings are wrapped around my wrists and ankles.
The gag is unwound from my mouth. Then the blindfold is tugged free. I find myself looking into his face. He’s close for a moment, and I see every hard line, every dimple, the scimitar curve of his smile. The breath goes out of me. He is stunning.
He steps back and the rest of the room rushes in. High ceilings. Plain white walls. Nothing about it gives me any clues as to where I am. The windows are covered over with Japanese style paper which lets in a little light, but cuts out the world behind.
This is bad. Very bad.
I am trying to not be so frightened that my brain shuts down, but I can’t help it. I’m terrified. This is not the man to be taken by. His reputation is legend, and his methods are as brutal as the are original.
I know him by one name: Vicious.
He’s in his late thirties. He has those green eyes which are infamous among the female members of our community, that dark hair which looks like it curls when its wet, a bit like mine. Right now it’s slicked back. He likes control, and every inch of his body reflects that.
Handsome is a word for models and television stars. He’s more than handsome. He’s enigmatic. Magnetic. Every inch of his body is worthy of attention, and I can’t stop staring.
Beneath that suit of his, I can only imagine the state of his body. Blaze says he’s tattooed and scarred. If she were here right now, she’d be drooling for him, because he’s every bit as impressive in person as he is in pictures.
His appeal is more than superficial. I get the impression that the world moves around him. My kidnap shows it. I was walking down a relatively busy street. He shouldn’t have gotten away with anything that brazen - but he just did.
“It’s nice to meet you, Kitty,” he says, giving me a bright smile. His dimples seem somewhat incongruous with the rest of his persona, but they add to his charm. That hard jaw, those masculine lips, that straight nose and those expressive eyes ringed with long dark lashes. His shoulders are broad, his hips are powerful. He’s an animal with all the vicious intelligence of a man.
I should be replying. I should have something intelligent to say. But I don’t. I’m made temporarily stupid by the suddenness of it all - and by the charm he exudes. The one mistake I’m not making right now is giving into that charm. I’m still smart enough to know I’m in danger. It doesn’t matter how attractive he is, he has just abducted me.

It's just as well Loki Renard became an author because other career paths proved disastrous. She was once thrown out of someone's house for trying to sell them citrus based cleaning product, and her brief brush with corporate life ended when she wrote profiles for her fellow employees likening them to various feral animals then attempted to negotiate the idea of not coming into the office and getting paid anyway. Perhaps if she'd had the dedication to slug herself in the face a la Fight Club, things might have turned out differently.

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