Series: Condemned (#4)
Genre: New adult/dark romance
Word count: 46,000
I’ve finally got what I want.
Rafe Mason loves me. He’s forgiven me. Survived for me. Killed for me.
But is it enough?
His darkness owns me. Consumes me. Bends me. Heals me.
Loving him is my destiny. Even if it breaks me.
NOTE TO READERS: VAGRANT is a dark romance with disturbing themes and explicit content, including sexual scenes and violence that may offend some. Intended for mature audiences. Please begin with Torrent, Rampant, and Fervent before reading Vagrant. Part 4 of the Condemned series.
WHAT READERS ARE SAYING
“This book was the perfect conclusion to one of my favorite dark series…possibly the darkest series I’ve read thus far. Gemma is the master of dark romance and these books took me places I never thought I’d go…but more than that, it took me places I never thought I wanted to go.” — Obsessed With Romance blog
“The angel on my shoulder is screaming for dear life, while the devil on the other shoulder is rejoicing in pure dark bliss. This book had all the WTFs. Every twisted fantasy that your mind could conjure appeared in this book!” — Kelly, Give Me Books
“This is the end of an era! I loved it, I hated it, and I wanted to start the series all over again! God help me, but I’m a dirty, filthy whore who can’t get enough of this tale of woe and despair.” — Rough Draft Book Blog
“This book is so many levels of dark, but it’s so beautifully written and put together.” — Melissa, Alpha Book Club
“We get the same beautifully disturbed Rafe that we saw in TORRENT, the one that imprisoned and demeaned Alex in a cold cell in the basement of a house that was surrounded by water….the same Rafe that totally annihilated Alex’s walls and made her understand that yes, she does like the kinky effery…and that it’s ok, as long as it’s with him.” — Rachel, Bound By Books
Her low groan brought me back from the dark pit of fantasies that teased from the edges of my mind. The drugs were wearing off, but not fast enough for my liking. I tugged on the chain to the overhead light. Her lids fluttered, revealing two jade eyes that zeroed in on me.
She blinked several times then parted her lips. “Where are we?”
A simple question, untainted by fear or doubt. That’s how much she trusted me. Shit, how I wanted to be worthy of her trust. If anyone was fearful here, it was me because six months apart had taught me only one thing; I needed her with every fiber of my sadistic being.
“You’re home.” I peeled the hoodie from my torso and tossed it on the floor, then I lifted a knee and slowly climbed onto the bed. Crawling over the mattress like a lethal predator, I settled my knees between her spread thighs.
“Where’s home?” she asked, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her dark curls trailed behind her in a riot on the pillow. I fisted my hand in those silky locks, keeping her immobile, and teased her mouth with mine. She darted her tongue out to wet her lips. Fuck, she was already killing me, and I hadn’t even kissed her yet.
“Your home is underneath me, sweetheart.” I inched back, parted her jacket single-handedly, and took in the cleavage peeking from between the unbuttoned collar of her purple top. I couldn’t help but wonder how many assholes had raped that expanse of flesh with their eyes as she went about her day.
She pulled at her bindings, her neck straining as she eyed the cuffs trapping her wrists. “Afraid I’ll run?”
“I don’t know,” I said, quirking a brow in challenge. “Will you?” Grabbing her chin, I ran my tongue along the seam of her mouth, but she twisted her head to the side. “You’re mad at me,” I said.
She scoffed, refusing to meet my eyes. “Hurt, mad. Take your pick, Rafe.”
I winced. Hurt was much worse than mad, and she was both. I unlatched the buckles and gathered her hands above her head, telling her without words that she wasn’t to move.
And that was the twisted beauty of us—we understood each other without making a sound. She’d lie there and take it, no matter how fucking angry or hurt she was.