Ghosted (Team Zero #3) by Rina Kent

About the Author



My characters barge in like thieves in the middle of the night.

Uninvited.

Unapologetic.

Intense.

Rina Kent is a lover of suspenseful plots and edgy characters. She has always been obsessed with romance. Storytelling is in her blood. Plotting is her addiction. Flawed and gripping characters are her drug. She makes it her mission to give them all types of trouble before granting them happy endings.

When not scheming her characters fate, Rina manages a hectic schedule divided between studying and living with the most supportive husband and a not-very-supportive cat.

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Crowed Excerpt



(Team Zero #1, Crow’s Story)

The moment my fingers connect with his shoulder, a large hand clasps around my wrist, and my whole body is yanked forward.

I yelp, hands reaching out to grab onto something for balance. I end up gripping something warm.

What the...?

My lids slowly flutter open to be greeted by the most heated eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. And I’m straddling his lap, legs on each side of his hard thighs and both hands on his bare shoulders. My robe is tangled and my nightie bunches up to the middle of my thighs.

My pulse spikes at the proximity and how tiny I feel compared to his size. I bite the inside of my cheek. I’ve never been this close to a man before.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, I just stare at the icy blue eyes that should’ve never gotten into my life. Or my house. Or anywhere near me.

Instead of the death they promised, something entirely different is shining in them. A sinister promise. A dark journey. Instead of the safe numbness I’m supposed to feel, my heartbeat thunders in my ears, causing a shiver to ghost up my spine.

For the first time in forever, numbness isn’t taking over everything. Something is scratching at its surface. Something wild and unknown and... exciting.

Exciting.

I can’t even remember the last time I’ve been excited. What does ‘excited’ even mean?

I’m guessing it has to do with the tingles crawling up my limbs.

“Breaking your own rule, aren’t you?” He draws in that mesmerising British accent. His head tilts to the side until his nose gets impossibly close to the throbbing pulse in my neck. He breathes me in for a few seconds until I’m darn sure my heart will leap out of my throat.

“Huh?” I manage after a few seconds because apparently, I’m reduced to a mute.

“You said to never go to your floor, so what are you doing on mine?”

That’s a good question. What did I come here for, anyway?

There was something pressing, then he was having a seizure, then he touched me, and then... nothing. And everything. All at once.

His fingers glide over my collarbone, light, sensual, barely touching. I suppress a gasp as a full body shudder takes over me.

The combination of his leather scent, his hard chest against my achingly heavy breasts, and his thick arms surrounding me is already too much. Add his touch, and my skin resurrects under his fingertips.

The urge to surrender to this foreign sensation is so strong, I can’t access any thoughts past it.

It’s like I awaited this moment for a lifetime. Like I waited for him to ignite whatever lurked inside me.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Whatever is happening in my body isn’t supposed to happen. Especially with a fugitive I have zero idea about.





Ruin Excerpt



(The Rhodes #1, Aaron’s Story)

I turn towards the club’s back entrance. The hairs on the back of my neck stand like needles. Is this even due to cold anymore? I close my eyes, trying as much as possible to scoot the haze away.

This isn’t real. My mind is playing dirty tricks on me. A false premonition. A needless paranoia.

An intoxicating smell, different from garbage, invades my nostrils. As if compelled by some invisible force, I open my eyes. My feet almost fail me. I stagger and catch myself on a wall. My dizzy vision focuses on the tall man standing between me and the club’s entrance.

All warmth leaves my bloodstream. An unknown force draws down my spine, freezing my shoulder blades together.

It’s him.

The stranger is all in black. The hood he wears shadows his face, obscuring his features.

A faceless Grim Reaper.

And he’s here for me.

Oh. God.

“Good evening, Mae.”

I swallow at the deep, familiar voice and clasp my hands together to prevent them from shaking.

“H-how do you know my name?”

He tilts his head to the side but doesn’t answer.

Ugh. I hate the stutter on top of my slur. I’m coming off as an easy victim. Who the hell would ask such a question under these circumstances? My top priority is to run. Every cell in my being screams at me to turn and leave.

Peeking sideways, I seek the easiest way out. The situation doesn’t play in my favour. For one, my intoxicated brain is so slow at deciphering information. For two, the choice of the back entrance was a lousy one.

The stranger approaches silent and slow. Firm with intent. Like a painter would chase their muse.

“No, no, no...” I move two wobbly steps back. I’m not moving fast enough, and the stranger will be on me any second.