Sunday, March 11, 2018
Book Review for Hate Me by L.P. Lovell
Anna I am a whore. A slave. A possession. I accepted my fate long ago, but fate is not done with me yet. Freedom is so close I can almost taste it, only to have it snatched away under the guise of protection. A gilded cage is still a cage. Friend or foe? Saviour or oppressor? Rafael D’Cruze is a bad man. I hate him, so why do I feel safe with him? Rafael She’s a favour. Collateral. A pretty slave. I have no interest in her beyond keeping her alive for the man who now owns her. And yet…I’m fascinated by the little Russian. There is no room for weakness in my world, but it appears the delicate rose has steel petals. I’m willing to bleed for a willing touch, a trusting glance… A broken little bird. The big bad wolf. A longing that could heal or destroy. Hate me or hold me?
I have realized that I have not finished the Kiss of Death series and need to get to Kiss Me as soon as possible. That still did not make a dent in me reading Hate Me, I was still able to connect with the characters and dark storyline that L.P is a master at writing.
Rafael D' Cruze is not your normal cartel boss, he might be one of your biggest nightmares. Rafael takes on a job as a favor/payback for someone that he respects. How hard will it be to pick up a sex slave and hold onto her until it's time for her to get picked up by her new owner? Harder than he expected, her feistiness and beauty will keep him and his men on their toes, the men that want her back will feel his wrath, and it's his own demons and self control that will be the hardest of them all. I know I'm going to have to check my mental stability for falling for this cartel boss, but I did fall... I freaking dived head first.
Anna Vasiliev broke my heart, her ability to zone out the dark and twisted life around her had me wishing I could protect her. I could easily see why the cartel boss, the man that men fear would want to take away her pain and protect her in any way possible. Anna was taken and sold at the age of thirteen so her trust issues will have her wanting to run, that's until she doesn't understand the left to right emotions of the man that is holding her until her life goes back to the darkness that she is used to.
Hate Me is a dark and twisted read that had me on the edge, swiping pages like the crazy reader that I am. The slow tease of sexual tension and overwhelming feelings of falling in love and protection is perfect. OMG!!! The ending that left me feeling like an addict. I can't wait for the next book.
5 Star edge of the seat Read!
“Why are you doing this?” She glares at me. “If you are trying to break me – ” “I don’t need to break you,” I say coolly. She’s already so irrevocably shattered. She stands and moves in front of me, her shoulders rigid. I stare into her eyes, and through that self-imposed wall of ice she’s built around herself, I see all the pain and despair, the burning hatred and raw defiance. It’s buried, but it’s there, an ember just waiting for oxygen. I lift a brow, waiting to see what she’ll do. “Whatever it is that you want to do, just do it!” “And what do I want to do?” “Just fuck me. Beat me. Pick your poison, but get it over with!” Her voice rises to a guttural snarl. She reaches for the straps of her dress, shoving them down her shoulders until the material falls, exposing her breasts. I grab her wrists and pin them together against my chest, repositioning her dress with my free hand and sliding the straps back over her shoulders. She’s shaking, her breathing ragged and her eyes wild. I can feel her pulse thrumming at her wrist, a primordial drumbeat against my fingertips. She yanks against my hold, a growl working up her throat. A cold smile inches over my lips. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” She stills. “For me to be exactly what you expect.” I lean into her, bringing my lips to her ear. “I think you want to be a slave, Anna. I think you want to be treated like a fuck doll. You’d rather be a whore than deal with the unknown. At least that way, you know what men want from you, right? You’d know what I want from you.” She tugs on her wrists again, trying to break away from me, but I won’t let her. “No! I want…” “What do you want?” “I want to be free,” she whispers. I step closer to her, crushing her arms between our bodies as I place a finger beneath her chin. “No, you don’t. You say you want it, but I offer it to you, and you’re scared to take it. You’re so busy being so goddamn angry that you haven’t realized you’re standing in a cage and the door is open.” She tugs her face away from me. “I’m not angry,” she says. I laugh, sweeping a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Oh, avecita, you’re the angriest person I’ve ever met.” I see it in her, the rage. And her anger in itself is a volatile thing because just as she has been imprisoned, so has it.
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