The Bratva’s Bride by Jane Henry _ Blog Tour & Review

 

IMG_1199

 

45990725

 

Bratva life is simple:

You steal from the brotherhood, you pay with your life.

But the thief is a woman, and she’s too beautiful to die.

My wedding band will be her collar.

Our vows will be her shackles.

She will be my captive bride.

IMG_1084.PNG

 

Excerpt

I take our food in silence, then go to my bedroom where she waits for me.

Sitting primly on a chair, stark naked, her hands folded on her lap, she looks fucking beautiful. From where I stand I can still see the faint pink trail marks of the cane on her ass and thighs.

Fuck. I want to stripe her again, and again, and show her how punishment can yield both pain and pleasure.

I slide the silver tray on the table, and her stomach growls audibly. I smirk. It’s kind of cute, the way she blushes and looks down almost shyly.

“Hungry?” I ask her.

“Starving. You know, if I wasn’t sitting here naked, still feeling the punishment you gave me the night before, and I didn’t spend the night in a room that’s essentially a prison, I would almost feel as if this is nice. Room service and all.”

I ignore her chatter and uncover the tray revealing a silver bowl of our best muesli, a small pitcher of milk, a bowl of porridge, and fresh fruit. I don’t offer it to her, but allow her to eye it. She swallows and lifts her eyes to mine, but doesn’t touch the food.

She knows she’s not allowed to touch it without my permission, and the small gesture of obedience warms me.

Good girl, I think.

I think I may enjoy the training of Calina.

“Room service and all,” I agree. “You’ll find that if you cooperate, things will go better for you.”

“I gathered that,” she says, and her eyes flash at me a split second before she looks away and shields her gaze.

We’ll see how compliant she is after I feed her.

“Do you want food, Calina?” I ask.

“Of course I do,” she snaps.

I take my own tray of eggs and fruit, and begin to eat. I don’t like her tone of voice. Watching me eat, she begins to tremble. “Then show me.”

“Show you?” she asks, a twinge of annoyance in her tone. “Show you how?”

“Beg me.”

My dick tightens. There are many ways to control another human being, and the most basic necessities are the key. Shelter. Food. Comfort.

“Beg you?” she repeats, spitting the words out as if they’re distasteful. I take a deliberately large bite of my eggs and nod.

“That’s what I said.”

Will she defy me? I hope she does. In my closet hang belts and straps, and an after-breakfast whipping sounds like a decent workout.

Or will she do as she’s told?

Long minutes pass as she looks at the food then brings her eyes back to me. She doesn’t move. I finish myeggs and move on to my fruit bowl, and still, she stays where she is.

“You have hundreds of hours of work to pay me off,” I tell her. “Consider this your first one.”

I watch her inhale then exhale, her eyes narrowing on me, before she pushes herself away angrily from the chair and kneels in front of me. Jaw clenched, eyes like little pyres.

“Please may I have food,” she says through clenched teeth.

“Sir,” I amend, taking another bite of food she doesn’t miss. Her eyes rove over my plate as she watches me eat.

“You’re a—“

“Watch it,” I correct. “I’ve explained to you that as mine, you will obey me. You speak to me disrespectfully, and you’ll find your ass striped good and red before we go downstairs to my brothers shortly.” I let the weight of my words sink in. “Now try again.”

She takes in a deep breath, draws her shoulders back, and says through gritted teeth, “Please may I have food, sir?”

It’s almost passable.

I finish my fruit and take her muesli. I despise the stuff, but it was the first thing she asked for, so she can watch me eat it while she learns to behave. I dump some in my fruit cup, top it with milk, and spoon the too-sweet concoction. It takes effort to school my features from grimacing when I taste coconut. Fucking disgusting.

I choke down a bite. “You’re getting there,” I tell her. “But I think your tone of voice can be more compliant.”

“And I think your—“

But she stops herself mid-sentence. I take another bite of her muesli.

“Please,” she says in a quiet voice, “May I have some breakfast, sir?”

I nod. “You may. Sit.”

She gets off her knees with grace becoming a woman of stature much higher than her own, and sits regally in the chair before me, her breasts full and pert and still lightly marked from the cane.

Perfect.

I give her the remaining porridge.

“Good job,” I tell her. “Now while you eat, let’s go over what I expect of you.”

She swallows large bites of porridge as if she’s afraid I’ll take it away from her and when I don’t remove it, she pauses long enough to top it with sugar before resuming her breakfast. I wonder how long it’s been since she’s eaten.

“You’ll speak to me with respect,” I tell her. “No backtalk or rude tone. While we’re here and I’m occupied, I may cuff you or cage you, any time I do I expect you’ll submit.”

Her eyes narrow, but she says nothing as she continues to eat.

“You’ll pay me back by the hour when you obey my commands,” I tell her. “As I explained to you before, in my presence, you will obey and submit, or suffer the consequences. This is not a partnership. Anything that seems like freedom is merely an illusion. You are my captive, and you’ll be given many opportunities to pay back what you owe. But make no mistake, Calina.” I lean forward. “You are mine. You have no freedom but what I allow. I am your master and you, kisa, are my slave. Understood?”

IMG_1138

 

USA Today Bestselling author Jane has been writing since her early teens, dabbling in short stories and poetry. When she married and began having children, her pen was laid to rest for several years, until the National Novel Writing Challenge (NaNoWriMo) in 2010 awakened in her the desire to write again. That year, she wrote her first novel, and has been writing ever since. With a houseful of children, she finds time to write in the early hours of the morning, squirreled away with a laptop, blanket, and cup of hot coffee. Years ago, she heard the wise advice, “Write the book you want to read,” and has taken it to heart. She sincerely hopes you also enjoy the books she likes to read.

 

20180424_214257

[I received a digital arc for an honest review]

The Bratva’s Bride is the second book, but can be read as a standalone, in Jane Henry’s Wicked Doms series. This is a dark Russian mafia romance that will command you from the beginning and not lose your attention.

I feel your pulse, he murmurs Does it quicken with excitement, kitten? Fear of what awaits you? Or both?

My favorite aspects of dark romances is the bad guy who you can’t help but fall for because when they fall they are all in. Demyan is scary, sexy, dominating and absolutely mouth watering. The way he commands and takes control of Larissa is hot as f***. His internal conflict over actually caring about her as she becomes his weakness is just as much of a turn on. Sometimes in dark romances the heroine is naive and lacking and that is far from the case in this one. Larissa is brave, smart, and loyal. What she sacrifices for the safety of her sister is admirable. She even sasses off to Demyan and quickly figures out how far she can push him. Demyan and Larissa are both well written strong characters and together are intense. The sex scenes are dark, rough and delicious!

I want to be both the one that makes her cry and the one that brings her comfort

The Bratva’s Bride is a fantastic high tension, dark romance. Another addicting story by Jane Henry and I can’t wait for more!

What have I gotten myself into? I’m alone with a man who’s both beautiful and terrifying, like an angel cast into hell.

PicsArt_05-27-07.00.21

4 star rating

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s