Circle of Death Read Free

its wake as it rakes along my body.
    “I’m Devlin Vile,” he tells me, his voice full and sure.
    Jackpot.
    “Hi Devlin,” I purr, letting down my guard just an inch, “I’m Logan. Logan Farrah.”
    “Well Logan,” Devlin goes on, closing the careful space I’ve put between us, “Welcome to The Club. I bet you’re ready for a taste of the action out here. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t go to bed hungry. Trust me, I know how to fill a girl up.”
    “Oh, I bet you do,” I return.
    Little does he know, of course, that my presence here is the furthest thing from a stumble. I’m a woman on a mission. A mission that has everything to do with him, as it turns out. But as I breathe in his intoxicating presence—the towering form, the searing gaze, the smoky, spicy scent of him—I decide that as long as I’m here, I may as well have a little bit of fun. All work and no play has never done anyone any good, right?
    Is it possible that this Devlin Vile could be as dangerous as they say he is? Only one way to find out, I muse to myself, and take a step toward him.
     

Chapter Two

    Boston, Massachusetts
    One month earlier...
     
     
    The sound of a sarcastic catcall tears my attention away from the full length mirror. I turn to see my roommate Emma leaning against the doorframe, grinning at my current getup.
    “Hey, sexy mama,” she teases, “Can I get some of that?”
    I frown at my reflection, all decked out in its unflattering cap and gown. I’ve been trying to convince myself that the whole costume isn’t really that terrible...but to no avail. I look like a giant green Easter Peep that someone’s run through the microwave.
    “You’re so lucky you don’t have to sit through graduation,” I sigh, flicking my cap’s tattered tassel away from my face, “Maybe I can hire a body double to go for me or something? Surely there’s a section on Craigslist for that.”
    “Or you could just skip the whole thing like a sensible human being,” Emma shrugs, tucking her short blonde hair behind her ears.
    “I wish,” I grumble, sinking onto my narrow bed in the starchy, sweaty robe. “My parents would never speak to me again if I didn’t show up.”
    “Last time I checked,” Emma says, raising a fair eyebrow, “They forfeited their right to this graduation nonsense when they reneged on paying for your education because your major didn’t suit them.”
    She does have a point. By all rights, I should have no qualms about ditching graduation despite my parents’ desires. I’m the one who financed my degree through a half dozen scholarships (and about 50K in student loan debt, of course). My mom and dad always told me when I was growing up that they’d be more than happy to pay for my college education, provided that I studied something “practical” like medicine or law. But when I decided to major in marketing and communications instead, their offer of financial assistance was snatched away right quick.
    “Why would we pay for a degree that’s just going to leave you jobless and living in our basement?” my mother had scoffed at the time.
    And much to my chagrin, she seems to have had a valid argument. I’m graduating from college at the end of the week, and I’ve spent the better part of the past year sending out resume after resume to every media and publishing outlet in the country. In that time, I’ve had exactly four lackluster interviews and zero job offers. I’m about to step into the real world with a boatload of debt, no job, and a rather fatalistic attitude about my prospects. Just like my mother predicted way back when.
    “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Emma sighs, sitting down next to me on the bed. I watch as she tucks her slender legs beneath her, nimble as a kitten. I’ve always been slightly covetous of my best friend’s tiny frame. I’m a relatively tall young woman, 5’ 9” to be exact, and was an early bloomer, as far as curves as concerned. I’ve