Je vous rappelle que tous les tomes ont été chroniqués (sauf le 0.5 découvert après) Et je vois déjà deux nouveaux tomes annoncés. La saga est loin d'être fini ^^ et la série spin-off "Ruthless Asylum" débarque fin janvier avec "Lunatic".
Présentation de l'éditeur :
Love is powerful force, but it doesn’t compare to guilt.
And just like most people, my guilt eats me alive.
I went from being an irresponsible kid who didn’t know any better, to an irresponsible man who does. 
I make no apologies.
Don’t take my carelessness for strength.
My blood is as thick as the water that killed my brother and once I’m cut, there’s no stopping the river of rage.
My past is dead. I’m not like my MC brothers. Nothing is going to come bite me in the ass.
Or so I thought.
Because life gave me Mary, the little hellraiser who tries to be reckless.
She’s only looking to escape the nightmare of what happened to her in Atlantic City.
She’s a good girl. She doesn’t belong in this life.
Even if I know she belongs with me.
She paints her lips in red lipstick, but I know it’s an effort to hide the pain.
There’s more than the fact we are too different to be together.
Death calls on the Ruthless Kings.
And like idiots, we answered.
Her past isn’t dead.
And mine has come back to life.
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EXTRAIT :
Bad things don’t happen to good people.
Bad people do.
And it’s made me love and appreciate good people more. Maybe I’m different. Maybe I’m not crying every night or having nightmares. Maybe I’m not losing myself in drinks or drugs, but I have lost something about myself.
I’m just trying to find it.
“You give me a headaches twenty-three out of twenty-four hours a day, but I can’t sit here and lie to you and say you aren’t beautiful,” Knives says, honestly, meeting my eye and keeping his hands to himself.
The flames dance in his cornflower blue eyes and they are so damn bright. I’ve never seen irises like his before. They are unique, just like him.
“And the other hour?” I tease when I sit down on the hay, which scratches my ass and is very uncomfortable.
“I’m sleeping. It’s the only damn peace I get.”
“Shut up,” I giggle, nudging his side with my arm. I lean forward and lay my elbows against my knees, watching the fire as it pops. The rain is slamming against the barn and the door shakes when the wind carries around us.
“It’s not letting up, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. I can’t believe it turned so ugly so fast.”
“The way of the world is bittersweet, ain’t it?” he asks, the stands and when I go to ask him where he is going, my eyes land on his package.
His very big, very long, very in my face, package. He has a tattoo above the waistband of his underwear, right above where I assume his pubic hair is and it says 666.
What’s that mean?
If a woman hops on top, does that mean she gets possessed by the devil?
Why does a part of me want to find out?
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