Morally Ambiguous: A Dark Mafia Romance (Morally Questionable Book) by Veronica Lancet ➱ Pre Order Tour with Giveaway
Title: Morally Ambiguous
Series: Morally Questionable Series #4
Author: Veronica Lancet
Release: June 30, 2021
Genre: Dark Romance
Cover Design: Veronica Lancet
She just wants to be loved… by the one man who is not capable of feeling it.
A CUTE PSYCHO
Charming and unpredictable, Vlad Kuznetsov is known as the joker of the underground world. Known to many yet known by none, he is a true social chameleon. His feigned affability might present him as inoffensive but his inner demons could unleash a bloodbath at any time. With a past shrouded in mystery, and even more secretive intentions, Vlad’s journey can only end one way – in blood.
A MISBEHAVING NUN
Assisi Lastra might be named after a saint, but her disposition is anything but saintly. Years of cold discipline in the convent she called home embittered her towards the world. Conditioned to strive for goodness, Sisi struggles between her natural wicked inclinations and the unnatural expectations placed upon her. One chance encounter with an unusual man, and all her inhibitions are thrown out the window.
Two unlikely people tangled together in the waltz of death; they are one step away from falling off the precipice. And each choice they make brings them closer to the edge. But in the end, only they can decide – to stop or to jump?
BLOOD LOST. BLOOD SPILLED. BLOOD WON.
For blood is the beginning, and blood is the end.
A CUTE PSYCHO
Charming and unpredictable, Vlad Kuznetsov is known as the joker of the underground world. Known to many yet known by none, he is a true social chameleon. His feigned affability might present him as inoffensive but his inner demons could unleash a bloodbath at any time. With a past shrouded in mystery, and even more secretive intentions, Vlad’s journey can only end one way – in blood.
A MISBEHAVING NUN
Assisi Lastra might be named after a saint, but her disposition is anything but saintly. Years of cold discipline in the convent she called home embittered her towards the world. Conditioned to strive for goodness, Sisi struggles between her natural wicked inclinations and the unnatural expectations placed upon her. One chance encounter with an unusual man, and all her inhibitions are thrown out the window.
Two unlikely people tangled together in the waltz of death; they are one step away from falling off the precipice. And each choice they make brings them closer to the edge. But in the end, only they can decide – to stop or to jump?
BLOOD LOST. BLOOD SPILLED. BLOOD WON.
For blood is the beginning, and blood is the end.
Backing up into him, I feel the contour of his body fitted to mine. Turning suddenly, I place the tip of my blade to his neck.
"Bloodthirsty?" He asks, not even batting an eye at the sharp edge currently lodged just below his Adam's apple.
"Just thirsty," I fire back suggestively, playfully moving the blade around his flesh. "Sometimes I wonder if you're even human," I murmur, danger rolling off him, a predator's eyes watching my every movement. "If you bleed like the rest of us…" I trail off, lowering the blade down his neck and around his collar bone.
He's wearing a black shirt that's completely molded to his muscles, the wide neckline giving me access to his skin.
"You think I'm not human, hell girl?" He asks, his hand on mine as he tightens it over the blade.
"You're… something," I reply.
There's a mythical quality to him, both in the way he presents himself to the world, but also in the way I know him intimately. There is a savageness deeply ingrained in his bones, a ferocity in his gaze as he lays it upon me. It makes me feel wanted in a primal, primordial way. As if there's no space, or time, or anything.
Just him.
It reminds me of the first time I saw him. How the pure danger emanating from his pores had turned me on, the way his promise of death had never been sweeter.
It's inexplicable.
Animal magnetism, primitive attraction, deadly seduction.
He embodies everything I should run away from, not towards.
My hand becomes slack in his, but he doesn't let go. His eyes still on mine, a sensuously wicked smile appears on his face as he digs the knife into his skin, just above the collar of his shirt.
I watch stupefied as the blade cuts through flesh, red drops bursting through the surface and coating the tip.
Eyes wide, I look at him questioningly.
"Tell me," he purrs, his tone smooth and alluring, "do I bleed?"
He doesn't let me answer, pushing the blade even deeper, more blood reaching the surface.
"I do bleed," he continues, low in his throat, "but only for you."
"Bloodthirsty?" He asks, not even batting an eye at the sharp edge currently lodged just below his Adam's apple.
"Just thirsty," I fire back suggestively, playfully moving the blade around his flesh. "Sometimes I wonder if you're even human," I murmur, danger rolling off him, a predator's eyes watching my every movement. "If you bleed like the rest of us…" I trail off, lowering the blade down his neck and around his collar bone.
He's wearing a black shirt that's completely molded to his muscles, the wide neckline giving me access to his skin.
"You think I'm not human, hell girl?" He asks, his hand on mine as he tightens it over the blade.
"You're… something," I reply.
There's a mythical quality to him, both in the way he presents himself to the world, but also in the way I know him intimately. There is a savageness deeply ingrained in his bones, a ferocity in his gaze as he lays it upon me. It makes me feel wanted in a primal, primordial way. As if there's no space, or time, or anything.
Just him.
It reminds me of the first time I saw him. How the pure danger emanating from his pores had turned me on, the way his promise of death had never been sweeter.
It's inexplicable.
Animal magnetism, primitive attraction, deadly seduction.
He embodies everything I should run away from, not towards.
My hand becomes slack in his, but he doesn't let go. His eyes still on mine, a sensuously wicked smile appears on his face as he digs the knife into his skin, just above the collar of his shirt.
I watch stupefied as the blade cuts through flesh, red drops bursting through the surface and coating the tip.
Eyes wide, I look at him questioningly.
"Tell me," he purrs, his tone smooth and alluring, "do I bleed?"
He doesn't let me answer, pushing the blade even deeper, more blood reaching the surface.
"I do bleed," he continues, low in his throat, "but only for you."
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