RELEASE BLITZ
Title: Branded
Series: Savage Men #4
Author: Clarissa Wild
Genre: Standalone Dark Romance
Release Date: February 4, 2019
Title: Branded
Series: Savage Men #4
Author: Clarissa Wild
Genre: Standalone Dark Romance
Release Date: February 4, 2019
BLURB
She was supposed to be my forever.
Instead, I became her worst enemy.
Instead, I became her worst enemy.
I fell for the one girl I could never have…
And it destroyed us both.
I did a bad, bad thing.
But she isn’t exactly innocent either.
When I’m faced with the ultimate choice – Let her die or save her – I grab her and run.
She calls me a monster. The devil himself.
No one will take her from me.
She’s mine to punish.
Mine to keep… forever.
Note: This STANDALONE novel contains disturbing content that may be offensive to some readers. No Cliffhanger. Book 4 in the Savage Men Series.
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EXCERPTS
#1
In her knee-length black dress, she walks down the gravel path, exiting the graveyard. I can’t stop looking at her. She’s just as beautiful as she was when I first met her all those years ago, if not more beautiful now that we’ve both grown up.
Our eyes connect again, and I feel inclined to look away, but I don’t. Something about her perfect face forces me to engage. It doesn’t allow me to walk away.
So I stand and wait as she walks to me with soft steps, almost as if she’s tentatively waiting for me to approach her too. But I stay put. It’s not my place to decide when the time is right.
She swallows, and I do too. My body feels jittery as though I’m supposed to run or do some stupid push-ups against the tree even though I have a fucking crutch. Does it look dumb? It probably does, but I need it to be able to stand although I wish I could chuck it in the bushes right now and make it disappear.
Damn, just looking at her smile makes me feel like a goddamn teenager again. The last time I felt this way was when she stepped into my papa’s shop for the first time and bought that awful shirt.
God, that feels like ages ago.
“Hey,” she murmurs when she’s in front of me.
I clear my throat. “Hey.”
“Are you visiting someone, or are you spying on me just for fun?” she asks, winking.
There’s only one reason I’m here, and that’s her.
But I don’t want to sound like a stalker even though I definitely am.
“I’m just your friendly neighborhood bodyguard,” I jest.
A cute, lopsided grin spreads on her lips. “Do I need a bodyguard?”
I smirk. Touché.
I don’t know why, but I felt compelled to be here as her father’s service ended. Like she needed me to be here so she could close that chapter once and for all without fear of losing everyone in her life. Even if she hates me, at least she still has that.
But being next to her, side by side, while they put her dad’s body in the ground seemed a bit too close. I only wanted her to know I was there and that she wasn’t alone in her misery.
I tug on my collar. “I came to give you this,” I say, pulling my pendant off and holding it out to her.
She blinks a couple of times. “I can’t take that,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s your papa’s pendant, right?”
I’m surprised she remembers. “My papa gave this to me after my ma died. In our family, it’s customary to give this to someone you want to protect,” I say, pushing it into her hand and closing her fingers over it. “I want you to keep it. Please.”
She looks up at me with those same innocent eyes I once saw when she stood in front of me in my papa’s shop, and all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss her pain away.
But my lips don’t have that kind of power.
A tentative smile edges her face. “I … don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” I reply, and we both look down at the ground, unable to look each other in the eyes. There’s so much I wanna say to her, but I don’t know where and if I should even start.
So I opt for the most important words of all. “I’m sorry.”
I can’t say it enough. No number of apologies will ever bring any of her family members back, but it’s a start.
Her chest rises and her nostrils flare as she takes in a breath as if she’s inhaling my words to the fullest. Then she nods a few times, licking her lips.
She doesn’t have to say anything. I should be the one to say all the words, but there aren’t enough in the dictionary to describe how sorry I am for putting her through all that anguish.
“I should’ve known my uncle was the culprit. I should’ve known you were speaking the truth. I should’ve—”
She puts a finger on my lips, and says, “Don’t. Just … don’t say anything please.”
I nod. Every word I utter fails to give her peace.
She has every right to be angry, and I won’t even attempt to take that emotion away from her. Nothing I do or say will erase what I’ve done.
So I grab her hand and press a soft kiss to the top before turning around and walking off with my umbrella held high while my head slumps. Not because of sadness or despair. It’s the guilt that weighs me down. The shame that drags me away from her.
If I cannot provide her comfort, I will give her someone to blame.
An enemy she can hate for the rest of her life.
At least then I may be of some use to her after all.
“Wait!” she suddenly yells. “When will I see you again?”
I don’t know the answer to that question.
The only thing I know is that I still have some things to take care of. Some people to punish for ruining both my family and hers. People my uncle associated himself with.
People whose names I have tattooed on my skin.
Still, I can’t help but smile at the sound of her voice ringing in my ears.
I will keep it in my heart as I walk off, knowing she’ll be all right.
Even if we never meet again.
Our eyes connect again, and I feel inclined to look away, but I don’t. Something about her perfect face forces me to engage. It doesn’t allow me to walk away.
So I stand and wait as she walks to me with soft steps, almost as if she’s tentatively waiting for me to approach her too. But I stay put. It’s not my place to decide when the time is right.
She swallows, and I do too. My body feels jittery as though I’m supposed to run or do some stupid push-ups against the tree even though I have a fucking crutch. Does it look dumb? It probably does, but I need it to be able to stand although I wish I could chuck it in the bushes right now and make it disappear.
Damn, just looking at her smile makes me feel like a goddamn teenager again. The last time I felt this way was when she stepped into my papa’s shop for the first time and bought that awful shirt.
God, that feels like ages ago.
“Hey,” she murmurs when she’s in front of me.
I clear my throat. “Hey.”
“Are you visiting someone, or are you spying on me just for fun?” she asks, winking.
There’s only one reason I’m here, and that’s her.
But I don’t want to sound like a stalker even though I definitely am.
“I’m just your friendly neighborhood bodyguard,” I jest.
A cute, lopsided grin spreads on her lips. “Do I need a bodyguard?”
I smirk. Touché.
I don’t know why, but I felt compelled to be here as her father’s service ended. Like she needed me to be here so she could close that chapter once and for all without fear of losing everyone in her life. Even if she hates me, at least she still has that.
But being next to her, side by side, while they put her dad’s body in the ground seemed a bit too close. I only wanted her to know I was there and that she wasn’t alone in her misery.
I tug on my collar. “I came to give you this,” I say, pulling my pendant off and holding it out to her.
She blinks a couple of times. “I can’t take that,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s your papa’s pendant, right?”
I’m surprised she remembers. “My papa gave this to me after my ma died. In our family, it’s customary to give this to someone you want to protect,” I say, pushing it into her hand and closing her fingers over it. “I want you to keep it. Please.”
She looks up at me with those same innocent eyes I once saw when she stood in front of me in my papa’s shop, and all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss her pain away.
But my lips don’t have that kind of power.
A tentative smile edges her face. “I … don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” I reply, and we both look down at the ground, unable to look each other in the eyes. There’s so much I wanna say to her, but I don’t know where and if I should even start.
So I opt for the most important words of all. “I’m sorry.”
I can’t say it enough. No number of apologies will ever bring any of her family members back, but it’s a start.
Her chest rises and her nostrils flare as she takes in a breath as if she’s inhaling my words to the fullest. Then she nods a few times, licking her lips.
She doesn’t have to say anything. I should be the one to say all the words, but there aren’t enough in the dictionary to describe how sorry I am for putting her through all that anguish.
“I should’ve known my uncle was the culprit. I should’ve known you were speaking the truth. I should’ve—”
She puts a finger on my lips, and says, “Don’t. Just … don’t say anything please.”
I nod. Every word I utter fails to give her peace.
She has every right to be angry, and I won’t even attempt to take that emotion away from her. Nothing I do or say will erase what I’ve done.
So I grab her hand and press a soft kiss to the top before turning around and walking off with my umbrella held high while my head slumps. Not because of sadness or despair. It’s the guilt that weighs me down. The shame that drags me away from her.
If I cannot provide her comfort, I will give her someone to blame.
An enemy she can hate for the rest of her life.
At least then I may be of some use to her after all.
“Wait!” she suddenly yells. “When will I see you again?”
I don’t know the answer to that question.
The only thing I know is that I still have some things to take care of. Some people to punish for ruining both my family and hers. People my uncle associated himself with.
People whose names I have tattooed on my skin.
Still, I can’t help but smile at the sound of her voice ringing in my ears.
I will keep it in my heart as I walk off, knowing she’ll be all right.
Even if we never meet again.
#2
He rolls his eyes. “We’re stopping, sugar, whether you like it or not.”
I purse my lips in annoyance. “Don’t call me that.”
I’m not fucking sweet, and he knows it.
With a smile that would make all the girls fawn, he looks my way, and says, “What’s that, pumpkin?”
I cringe. “Pumpkin?”
Anything but that. Anything. I’d settle for bitch at this point as long as he doesn’t call me pumpkin. What is this, the fifties? God, this makes me wanna ram my head into the dashboard.
“Pie?” He nods his head, and I don’t get where he’s going at all.
“What do you want from me?” I ask with a raised voice.
A dark, delish laugh rolls off his tongue, one that makes me want to punch him in the throat.
“Nothing right now, cupcake,” he muses, grabbing my cheeks to squeeze them.
I swat him away, but my skin still prickles where he touched me. Goddammit, I don’t wanna feel this way around him. Anyone but him.
Goddamn him and his annoying nicknames.
“Maybe later, when I feel like roughing you up again …” He winks, and it’s one of those that instantly makes your heart flutter. Fuck.
“But for now, I think you could use some of that.” With that devilish smile, he directs my attention toward a billboard hanging high above the diner that says “Darla’s Delicious Pumpkin Pie!” and my mouth begins to water.
So that’s what he meant.
I stare at it for a second before realizing he’s still watching me instead of the billboard, probably trying to gauge my reaction.
“Hungry?” he asks, lifting a brow.
I clear my throat, and say, “No, we don’t have time for that—”
He takes an instant left turn, and if it wasn’t for this seat belt, I would have flown out of my seat. With screeching tires, we come to a stop on the parking lot. My hair is a mess and so is my heart rate. On his face is an even bigger grin.
“I’ll decide what we have time for,” he says with a smug face as he takes the keys from the ignition. “Time for food.”
I purse my lips in annoyance. “Don’t call me that.”
I’m not fucking sweet, and he knows it.
With a smile that would make all the girls fawn, he looks my way, and says, “What’s that, pumpkin?”
I cringe. “Pumpkin?”
Anything but that. Anything. I’d settle for bitch at this point as long as he doesn’t call me pumpkin. What is this, the fifties? God, this makes me wanna ram my head into the dashboard.
“Pie?” He nods his head, and I don’t get where he’s going at all.
“What do you want from me?” I ask with a raised voice.
A dark, delish laugh rolls off his tongue, one that makes me want to punch him in the throat.
“Nothing right now, cupcake,” he muses, grabbing my cheeks to squeeze them.
I swat him away, but my skin still prickles where he touched me. Goddammit, I don’t wanna feel this way around him. Anyone but him.
Goddamn him and his annoying nicknames.
“Maybe later, when I feel like roughing you up again …” He winks, and it’s one of those that instantly makes your heart flutter. Fuck.
“But for now, I think you could use some of that.” With that devilish smile, he directs my attention toward a billboard hanging high above the diner that says “Darla’s Delicious Pumpkin Pie!” and my mouth begins to water.
So that’s what he meant.
I stare at it for a second before realizing he’s still watching me instead of the billboard, probably trying to gauge my reaction.
“Hungry?” he asks, lifting a brow.
I clear my throat, and say, “No, we don’t have time for that—”
He takes an instant left turn, and if it wasn’t for this seat belt, I would have flown out of my seat. With screeching tires, we come to a stop on the parking lot. My hair is a mess and so is my heart rate. On his face is an even bigger grin.
“I’ll decide what we have time for,” he says with a smug face as he takes the keys from the ignition. “Time for food.”
#3
“Well … uh … hello there,” a waitress says with a deep voice. It’s the woman with the 80s hairdo. She’s looking Brandon up and down with no shame. “What can I do for ya? We don’t sell shirts here,” she jokes, laughing, then coughing heavily. Her clothes brush against my arm as she completely ignores me. They smell of cigarette smoke and bacon. What a combination.
“Sorry, I ran into a bit of trouble and didn’t have time to put a shirt on this morning.”
“Oh, do tell,” she says, leaning on the table right in front of me, blocking my view.
It’s as if she doesn’t even care that I’m here.
“Ah, it’s nothing.” Brandon raises his hand. “We’ve been driving for so long, and this diner’s got a delicious menu.”
She laughs with that rancid deepness again that sounds more like the gurgling of a dead fish, and it makes me wanna gag. “You got that right.” She stands up again and takes out her pen and notebook. “So what’ll it be?”
“Two pumpkin pies,” Brandon says, and he fishes in his pocket and takes out a few bills. “And two coffees, please.”
“Of course,” she says with a smile as she pens it down quickly. “Anything for you, sweetie.” She winks at him and turns around with a sassy sway in her hips, trying to capture his attention. I roll my eyes as she walks off. Thank fuck.
I sigh out loud. “Jesus, Brandon.”
“What?” He shrugs, but he’s clearly amused by her obvious crush on him.
I tilt my head. “Really? She’s twice your age.”
“So?” He tucks his money back into his pocket. “Some women know what they want and aren’t afraid to go after it.”
That was an obvious dig, and it’s got me clenching my fists so hard that my nails leave marks in my skin.
“Some women don’t know what’s good for them,” I say. “And you’re just using everyone to your advantage.”
“Hmm … that’s rich, coming from you,” he says.
Before I can respond, the lady comes back with forks and knives and sets everything down while we stare at each other in silence.
I wish I could stick the knife in his hands. Maybe I should, but I guess that would bring a lot of unwanted attention.
But the moment that woman opens her mouth again, I forget everything I’m thinking. “Here’s your coffee. Enjoy. The pies will be right up,” she says with a giggle. When she turns around again, she gives him another wink and a dirty lick of the lips before walking off.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight.
“Fuck. Me,” I say, grunting.
“When?” Brandon jests.
“Oh, shut up.” I chuck my napkin at him. “You are not funny.”
“Never claimed to be,” he says, casually stirring his coffee.
I cock my head. “Do you get off on it or something?”
“Sometimes,” he says, taking a sip. “But mostly, I think of killing you. Now that really gets me going.”
“Ha. Ha,” I say. “Jesus, if I had your gun right now, I’d rather kill myself than spend one more second here watching you flirt with that … woman.”
“Aw, that hurts,” he says arrogantly. “But the fact that you’re jealous totally makes up for it.”]
“Sorry, I ran into a bit of trouble and didn’t have time to put a shirt on this morning.”
“Oh, do tell,” she says, leaning on the table right in front of me, blocking my view.
It’s as if she doesn’t even care that I’m here.
“Ah, it’s nothing.” Brandon raises his hand. “We’ve been driving for so long, and this diner’s got a delicious menu.”
She laughs with that rancid deepness again that sounds more like the gurgling of a dead fish, and it makes me wanna gag. “You got that right.” She stands up again and takes out her pen and notebook. “So what’ll it be?”
“Two pumpkin pies,” Brandon says, and he fishes in his pocket and takes out a few bills. “And two coffees, please.”
“Of course,” she says with a smile as she pens it down quickly. “Anything for you, sweetie.” She winks at him and turns around with a sassy sway in her hips, trying to capture his attention. I roll my eyes as she walks off. Thank fuck.
I sigh out loud. “Jesus, Brandon.”
“What?” He shrugs, but he’s clearly amused by her obvious crush on him.
I tilt my head. “Really? She’s twice your age.”
“So?” He tucks his money back into his pocket. “Some women know what they want and aren’t afraid to go after it.”
That was an obvious dig, and it’s got me clenching my fists so hard that my nails leave marks in my skin.
“Some women don’t know what’s good for them,” I say. “And you’re just using everyone to your advantage.”
“Hmm … that’s rich, coming from you,” he says.
Before I can respond, the lady comes back with forks and knives and sets everything down while we stare at each other in silence.
I wish I could stick the knife in his hands. Maybe I should, but I guess that would bring a lot of unwanted attention.
But the moment that woman opens her mouth again, I forget everything I’m thinking. “Here’s your coffee. Enjoy. The pies will be right up,” she says with a giggle. When she turns around again, she gives him another wink and a dirty lick of the lips before walking off.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight.
“Fuck. Me,” I say, grunting.
“When?” Brandon jests.
“Oh, shut up.” I chuck my napkin at him. “You are not funny.”
“Never claimed to be,” he says, casually stirring his coffee.
I cock my head. “Do you get off on it or something?”
“Sometimes,” he says, taking a sip. “But mostly, I think of killing you. Now that really gets me going.”
“Ha. Ha,” I say. “Jesus, if I had your gun right now, I’d rather kill myself than spend one more second here watching you flirt with that … woman.”
“Aw, that hurts,” he says arrogantly. “But the fact that you’re jealous totally makes up for it.”]
#4
I aim and attempt to shoot, but Brandon immediately leans away as I pull the trigger. The bullet ricochets off the car bumper, and I growl out loud in frustration. We fight over the gun, and he knocks it from my hand, shoving me to the ground again. The gun flies off a few feet ahead, landing on the dusty soil right next to a prickly, dead bush. Too far for me to reach.
“You just had to go and do that again,” Brandon growls, holding me down. “Don’t you ever fucking learn? You can’t win this. You know I’m right.”
I don’t care if he’s right. I won’t give up. I can’t. For my brothers’ sake. For my own sanity.
Because the more time I spend with him, the more the line between what’s right and wrong begins to blur.
“And just when I thought we were getting along better,” he says with a snort. “Maybe you’re a hard learner.” He grips my body and turns me over underneath him. I’m helpless to fight him as he pulls my wrists together onto my back and tears off his tie, wrapping it around my wrists.
“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you a thing or two,” he whispers into my ears. “I’m not gonna let you go until you have what you came for …” he adds. “Me.”
“Like you’d give me your head,” I reply.
“No, my cock will have to do,” he says, and I can hear him grin. “Because that’s what you want, right? You’ve been yearning for it for so long now, always eyeing me whenever you can, wanting every woman to stay away from me as if you already own me …”
“Ridiculous,” I reply, but as his hand slides down my body, I completely forget what I was about to say.
He undoes the button on my pants and rips down my zipper.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to tell myself not to enjoy any of it.
“Giving you what you want … what you deserve,” he says, pulling down my pants.
Before I know it, my panties are gone too. I squeal, but he covers my mouth with his hand and whispers into my ear, “Let me give it to you then.”
His fingers dive between my legs. When his fingers thrum on my pussy, I writhe under his touch. Fuck this body as it’s betraying me right this very second. I can feel myself getting more excited, wetness spreading through my folds as he fingers me expertly. And fuck me … I’m actually starting to like it.
But I can’t. He’s a monster. The devil himself.
Yet I’m giving in like some willing victim.
“Wait,” I mumble, but I don’t even know what I’m going to say or why I want him to wait.
Part of me wants to bite him … and another part of me wants to gleefully give in to the pleasure.
Ugh. Why am I so conflicted?
“See, you enjoy me claiming this pussy …” he whispers into my ear with that dark voice of his. “You’re practically begging me to.”
My face is on the ground, and dry dust enters my nostrils as I try to breathe in deep. He’s on top of me, nudging my legs apart. A zipper is ripped open. My heart palpitates.
“You wanted me to give it to you, so now you’ll have it,” he says. “Every. Fucking. Inch.”
His hard-on presses against my outer thigh.
Pushing between my legs, he enters me from behind, bombarding my senses.
“Fuck … I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he says with a guttural groan, one that makes my pussy thump. Fuck him and the fucking filthy way he turns me on. He’s a dirtbag for fucking me in the dark outback. I should scold him and curse him.
Instead, I’m lying here facedown in the soil while he thrusts in deep. And I actually want it.
I gasp, accepting his full length as if I was meant to do it all along.
He’s thick and huge and overpowering as he starts thrusting in and out, slowly at first, as if he wants to toy not just with my body but with my mind too.
He slides aside my hair and licks the rim of my ear. “Did you dream about me fucking you like this, Dixie? Back when we were young?” he whispers.
“I wished you dead,” I hiss back.
It’s not a lie. I really did.
But I also had many fantasies before he turned them into fire.
“You just had to go and do that again,” Brandon growls, holding me down. “Don’t you ever fucking learn? You can’t win this. You know I’m right.”
I don’t care if he’s right. I won’t give up. I can’t. For my brothers’ sake. For my own sanity.
Because the more time I spend with him, the more the line between what’s right and wrong begins to blur.
“And just when I thought we were getting along better,” he says with a snort. “Maybe you’re a hard learner.” He grips my body and turns me over underneath him. I’m helpless to fight him as he pulls my wrists together onto my back and tears off his tie, wrapping it around my wrists.
“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you a thing or two,” he whispers into my ears. “I’m not gonna let you go until you have what you came for …” he adds. “Me.”
“Like you’d give me your head,” I reply.
“No, my cock will have to do,” he says, and I can hear him grin. “Because that’s what you want, right? You’ve been yearning for it for so long now, always eyeing me whenever you can, wanting every woman to stay away from me as if you already own me …”
“Ridiculous,” I reply, but as his hand slides down my body, I completely forget what I was about to say.
He undoes the button on my pants and rips down my zipper.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to tell myself not to enjoy any of it.
“Giving you what you want … what you deserve,” he says, pulling down my pants.
Before I know it, my panties are gone too. I squeal, but he covers my mouth with his hand and whispers into my ear, “Let me give it to you then.”
His fingers dive between my legs. When his fingers thrum on my pussy, I writhe under his touch. Fuck this body as it’s betraying me right this very second. I can feel myself getting more excited, wetness spreading through my folds as he fingers me expertly. And fuck me … I’m actually starting to like it.
But I can’t. He’s a monster. The devil himself.
Yet I’m giving in like some willing victim.
“Wait,” I mumble, but I don’t even know what I’m going to say or why I want him to wait.
Part of me wants to bite him … and another part of me wants to gleefully give in to the pleasure.
Ugh. Why am I so conflicted?
“See, you enjoy me claiming this pussy …” he whispers into my ear with that dark voice of his. “You’re practically begging me to.”
My face is on the ground, and dry dust enters my nostrils as I try to breathe in deep. He’s on top of me, nudging my legs apart. A zipper is ripped open. My heart palpitates.
“You wanted me to give it to you, so now you’ll have it,” he says. “Every. Fucking. Inch.”
His hard-on presses against my outer thigh.
Pushing between my legs, he enters me from behind, bombarding my senses.
“Fuck … I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he says with a guttural groan, one that makes my pussy thump. Fuck him and the fucking filthy way he turns me on. He’s a dirtbag for fucking me in the dark outback. I should scold him and curse him.
Instead, I’m lying here facedown in the soil while he thrusts in deep. And I actually want it.
I gasp, accepting his full length as if I was meant to do it all along.
He’s thick and huge and overpowering as he starts thrusting in and out, slowly at first, as if he wants to toy not just with my body but with my mind too.
He slides aside my hair and licks the rim of my ear. “Did you dream about me fucking you like this, Dixie? Back when we were young?” he whispers.
“I wished you dead,” I hiss back.
It’s not a lie. I really did.
But I also had many fantasies before he turned them into fire.
AUTHOR BIO
Clarissa Wild is a New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of Dark Romance and Contemporary Romance novels. She is an avid reader and writer of swoony stories about dangerous men and feisty women. Her other loves include her hilarious husband, her two crazy but cute dogs, and her ninja cat that sometimes thinks he's a dog too. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, playing video games, reading tons of books, and cooking her favorite meals.
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