ARC Review: Counts of Eight (The Four Families Trilogy 1) by Brynn Ford

Title: Counts of Eight

          Series: The Four Families Trilogy 1

Author: Brynn Ford

Release Date: May 31, 2020

Published By: Brynn Ford

Category: Contemporary – Romance – Suspense – Dark Romance

Type: Digital – Paperback

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Rating:

Heat: 

Blurb: 

All of my choices had been stripped from me except for one. Dance or die.

Three years ago, I was taken, stolen away, far from the world I knew, far from civilization. I became a slave, forced to serve one of the four families with my talent.

I'd been abused, battered, tortured in isolation. My master brought me men, partners for performance, but they failed to live up to the high standard of dance my master required.

Until one day, he brought me a new man. A blond-haired, green-eyed, dreamy new man who had no idea what was coming.

The men before him had disappeared. I presumed they were dead. I couldn't afford myself the luxury of hoping they'd made it out alive because that would give me hope that I might someday do the same.

Hope was a dangerous thing and this new man's spirit still thrummed with that electric spark of lightness. I would be the woman to strip that hope from him piece by tiny piece until he had none left. Only then could I control him, use him. Only then could I even consider the possibility of a predictable, complacent survival in this nightmare life.

And until that time came, I would make the only choice I was given the liberty of making.

Dance or die.

CONTENT WARNING: This book contains explicit sexual content, violence, and mature themes including scenes where consent is not sought or given. The author in no way condones such heinous acts, but rather seeks to immerse the reader in the true horror of the characters’ experiences. This is your trigger warning - reader discretion is advised.

SERIES NOTE: “Counts of Eight” is book one of three in the Four Families trilogy. It is not a standalone and the books must be read in order. The author plans to release books one and two in 2020 and book three by early 2021. The cliffhanger ending may provoke you to fling this book at the wall. Best of luck to you, daring readers.

 By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age.

If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.

Favorite Lines:

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Vocabulary Word:

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Excerpt:

          I jolt, whipping around to look behind me at the door when I hear the locks unlatching. At first, I think the blue-eyed girl who won’t tell me her name has returned, but then I wonder if it’s someone else. She told me that her master would be visiting me tonight, and I wonder if her master is the same man I caught a glimpse of in the dance studio. 
          I know I’ll find out soon enough as the door creeps open. It’s pushed just hard enough to swing wide without bouncing against the wall and swinging back to closed. Instead, it’s more like a curtain being drawn, revealing the villain to the captive audience for the first time. 
          The man stands in the doorway, legs planted strongly, about shoulder-width apart. His eyes are narrowed on me, as if he’s agitated by my very presence. 
          “My name is Nikolai Mikhailov. I’m your new owner.”He shares the same accent as the blue-eyed girl. 
          I push off the floor and get to my feet, trying to do it as steadily as I can so I don’t come off as weak. “As I told the girl, nobody owns me.”
          He steps across the threshold into the bedroom. I feel the force of him moving toward me and I take an automatic step back. I immediately realize what I’ve done, giving him some semblance of power over me by my instinct to move away. I step forward again, twice, making up for the lost distance. 
          He stops once he reaches the end of the bed, tilting his head toward it. “Sit. Let’s talk.”
          Without waiting to watch for my compliance, he reaches for the door, pushing it shut. I haven’t moved yet when he turns back around to face me. He doesn’t speak, just lifts a thick eyebrow, and the corner of my mouth lifts the same way in challenge. 
          He crosses his arms over his broad chest and cocks his head, and I literally feel the violent vibration of his soul slice through the space between us like a dagger. If the blue-eyed girl is winter, then this man is the fucking arctic circle. I strain every muscle in my body against the eerie feeling his presence imposes. My pride begs me to hold, to stay, to passively resist by remaining in place. But my instinct tells me to obey for now to spare my skin. 
          I leave the defiant smirk on my face while I slowly move toward the edge of the bed. I don’t let my eyes leave him for a second as I lower to sit, perched at the very end. Nikolai shifts to stand in front of me. 
          He reaches into his pocket and I shift backward as he flicks open a switchblade and moves toward me. 
          “Hold out your hands,” he says with no expression on his face. 
          “I don’t trust you with that thing,” I say honestly. 
          “Hold out your hands, mal’chik. I won’t ask you again.”
          I believe him. 
          I slowly push my hands forward and he reaches out to snatch me, gripping the ropes that bind me where they wrap around my wrists and yanking my arms toward him. I flinch as he starts to saw away at the rope, but I don’t dare pull my hands away for fear his blade may slip and injure me. 
          “If you fight me, you will lose,” he tells me with a flick of his gray eyes from his blade to mine. “I’d hate to have to purchase a new comforter for your bed again. Anya’s last partner bled all over the last one before his time with us ended.”
          My heart hesitates a little longer between beats before thumping painfully back into order. 
          Anya. 
          Is that her name? 
          The blue-eyed girl? 
          I dare to ask the question, “What happened to him?”
          The rope separates and falls free and I rub my sore, chaffed skin. 
          Nikolai folds the blade and pockets it in his tan trousers, taking a slight step backward. “It’s of no matter to you. He’s gone and you’re here to replace him.”
          With my hands freed, my fight reflex jumpstarts a new rush of adrenaline that forces my instincts to kick in. My head jerks back to look in the direction of the door. I immediately realize that I could slide off the side of the bed, throw the unlocked door open, and make a run for it. But some smarter, saner part of me wonders what the fuck I would do then. 
          I don’t know where I am. 
          I don’t know what or who might be in the hallway. 
          I haven’t assessed this man’s physical capabilities, though it’s obvious his intentions are nefarious and it’s unlikely he possesses an ounce of empathy. 
          I’m itching to jump and run, the urge to do it literally burns under my skin. My knees jerk up, ready to run and I clamp my palms down over them to hide my intentions. It’s too late, though, because this guy already knows what I’m thinking. In a flash, he’s got his switchblade out and open again, at the same moment my muscles flex to pull me upright off the bed. I’ve hardly moved toward the door before he comes after me. 
          He grabs me by the back of my shirt, tossing me backward and throwing me onto the floor with strength and ease. I’m strong, I have endurance, but the way he flings me with such a simple flick of his wrist puts me in check immediately. 
          I jump back up off the floor, ready to fight. But looking at his cold face, the same heartless expression he held from the moment he walked through the door, I hesitate. There’s no passionate fury, no violent rage, just cool, collected indifference and somehow, that’s more frightening. 
          “I told you,” he says, flipping the blade in his hand. “Fight me and you’ll lose.”
          I’m taking in heavy breaths as my adrenaline crests over the peak and starts to fall. “Just tell me what the fuck you want from me. Why am I here?”
          “Sit and we’ll discuss. Your incivility is unbecoming. It makes me want to shove this blade in the side of your neck and I just might if you don’t sit, mal’chik.”
          I lock my fingers behind my head, stretching back before letting them drop with a thud against my sides. “Fuck, fine.”
          Once again, I’m moving toward the bed, forcing myself to relax enough to sit, though I’m agitated, twitchy, fidgety. It’s not easy with him standing there between me and my freedom, threatening to stab me. 
          I’m not gonna die in this place. 
          As I lower to sit, he hovers above me. He smells like cigar smoke and whiskey. His prominent brow line shadows his gray eyes, emphasizing his permanently narrowed eyes. 
          “You are here for one reason and one reason only. I’ve brought you here to serve Anya, to perform with her.”
          “Perform for who?”
          “Mostly for me. You’ll learn more in time. Right now, all I want from you is to understand your place. You are in my home. It’s belonged to my family for four generations. You will respect me here as the Head of House. You know my name, but you will call me master. Anya calls me the same as you are both my belongings. But she will also be your master, and you’ll refer to her in whatever manner she deems respectable. You will obey her. You will follow her rules. You will not question or fight her. When she asks you to dance, you will dance and you will get it right. If you don’t, she may punish you and I will support it. If she can’t control you, I will punish her, so know that your actions will impact the entire household. Now, kindly remove your socks and shoes.”
          “What?”I stare up at him like he’s just grown a second head. 
          He sucks in a breath and his lips flatten into a straight line. “Don’t make me ask you again.”His wrist ticks and light bounces off the blade, reminding me it’s still in his hand. 

Highlight:

          He starts walking toward me and my shoulders tense as he nears the piano bench, stopping just on the other side of it. 

          “Anya, I need you to tell me what all of this is about it.”

          I cross my arms over my chest. “What do you want to know?”

          “What’s with this performance? Why are we doing it? Why does he care? It’s a pretty ridiculous reason to have slaves, don’t you think? Just to dance for him.”

          “It’s not just for him. I told you, this is so much bigger than Nikolai.”

          He nods. “Okay, so tell me everything. I have a right to know what this is all about.”

          I lower my arms. “You’ll be disappointed to find out why our lives were stolen from us.”

          He huffs out an amused sound. He steps forward, straddling the piano bench before he sits down. My mouth falls open watching him and I inhale sharply, exhale slowly. 

          “I have no doubt you’re right. I can’t imagine any reason being something other than disappointing. Though that’s probably not a strong enough word.”

          “Frustrating,” I offer. 

          He shakes his head. “Nah. Discouraging?” he counters. 

          “Aggravating?”

          “Infuriating.”

          “Provocative,” I say. 

          He smiles. “Now that’s an interesting word choice.”

          “I don’t mean in a sexual context, I—”

          What am I saying? 

          Thankfully, he cuts me off, “Hey, I knew what you meant.”

          “Right,” I say. “Right, I know.”

          I know I sound moronic and it’s really unbecoming for a woman who is supposed to be in charge here. 

          Ezra pats the bench in front of him. “Can we just sit for a minute? Just talk to me. Tell me what’s up here.”

          I tilt my head, looking at the bench. I’m physically drawn to him. My body wants to be close to him and he’s asking me to sit and talk. I know I should remain standing, using the leverage of my height as he sits to re-establish my authority and certify my position of power over him. 

          But I don’t. 

          I straddle the bench facing him. “There are four families that run a multi-billion-dollar enterprise across the globe. The O’Sheas, The Campbells, The Vittoris, and The Mikhailovs.”

          “Selling slaves.”

          “Human trafficking. Yes. It’s quite the lucrative business for those involved.”

          “Christ,” he says, shaking his head. 

          “You and I belong to the Mikhailovs, obviously. But the slaves belonging to any the four families are more symbolic than anything else. Our role is entertainment. Some talent slaves will belong to their family for years, decades, but when the family is no longer entertained, they might sell their slave or…”

          “Or they kill them?” he finishes the thought for me. 

          I’ve been looking at my hands resting in front of me on the bench, but I lift my eyes now. I connect with his gaze and his interested stare holds me. 

          I nod. “I think so, yes.”

          “You had partners before me.”He shifts, his eyes darting away then back to meet mine. “Do you know what happened to them?”

          “I don’t,” I hesitate. “I can’t think about that.”

          His gaze is soft and comforting as he reaches out to tap my hand between us. “I’m sorry, Anya.”

          I’ve stilled at the touch of his fingertips on the back of my hand. There’s just something entirely inexplicable about the way my skin reacts to his touch. It’s soothing but at the same time, stirring, fire-starting. 

          Provocative. 

          My fingers twitch and before I can stop myself, I turn my hand and open it, inviting him to take hold. I feel relief when he grips it without hesitation, holding my hand without reserve or question or expectation. He holds it confidently, in such a way that it makes my whole body tingle in light-heartedness to be so courageously touched. He’s not tentative or wary or afraid that Kostya or Nikolai will see. His touch is just there, it exists for what it is, and my soul feels the vibration of it. 

          I feel like I’ve found my steadiness when I start talking again, “The four families meet quarterly to discuss business. I don’t know the details. But they rotate their meeting location for each quarter, each taking a turn to host. The family who is hosting is responsible for providing entertainment before business. Once a year, it’s Nikolai’s turn to host, our turn to perform. The last meeting was hosted by the O’Shea family.”

          My eyes pinch shut for a moment as I remember being Nikolai’s payment to Vigo Vittori for information at that very meeting, just after the O’Shea family talent slave performed. 

          “So, Nikolai owns us just so we can perform for him and his depraved colleagues once a year?”

          “Yes, though it’s not that simple…” I look down at our hands because I feel his thumb brush over my skin, “Or perhaps, it really is that simple and that’s what makes it so demented.”

          “It’s fucked-up. This whole thing is fucked-up.”

          I press my lips together. “I know.”

          ...    

          “You think he’d get rid of you and keep me instead?” 

          I nod and let go of one of his hands to draw circles on the bench, looking down at my fingers as if they’re interesting to watch. 

          “I think,” I begin, but hesitate, knowing I shouldn’t be telling him so much of my speculation, “I think he’s ashamed by his preferences. There was pressure on him to choose a beneficiary when he found me as a child. I think finding a female talent was just easier. And a female beneficiary is far and above the standard among the four families.”I tilt my head. “I think my dance partners have been the only male talent slaves. I think the Vittoris have some male slaves, but they serve the lady of the house. I don’t think there have ever been any other male beneficiaries.”

          His jaw ticks and he nods. “I get it. He doesn’t just want to watch a beautiful woman dance…”

          “He wants to watch a beautiful man, too,” I complete the thought for him. “You’re more beautiful than the others. He’s been kinder to you.”

          He laughs. “This shit is his version of kindness?”

          “Yes. This, what you’ve seen from him, is kindness. You have no idea what he’s put me through.”

          His brow wrinkles. “I have a little bit of an idea. Are you telling me it’s been worse than him drowning you?”

          I meet his eyes and I know mine have glazed over with ice, the way they always do when thoughts of my various traumatic incidents with Nikolai jump back into my brain. 

          “Much worse.”I sigh. “Things have been changing since his parents and his brother died a year ago. He’s become arrogant, bold, self-righteous. Downright vindictive. And he takes his anger out on me.”

          He pauses in consideration. “I won’t let him do that anymore.”

          “I’m afraid he will come after you, too. There will come a point when he wants you as much as he wants me. You’re the first partner since his immediate family died. There’s no one here to judge him, and I’m terrified of how he will use us. And when he decides he’s done with one or both of us, then he’s done. You see the control he has over us now? We can’t escape this place. Like it or not, we are his slaves. We belong to him. Our lives are in his hands. But there is one thing we can control.”

          He says it so I don’t have to, “Our performance.”

          “Yes. And it’s the only thing, the only singular thing that makes me feel like I can wake up in the morning and go on.”

Review: 

Anya is no longer living her life. She is merely surviving; doing what she has to so that she makes it through another day. Her dream had always been to become a principal ballerina and she was well on her way – until one fateful day when she was ripped away from the life she knew. Thrust into a dark world of brutality, the vileness of human trafficking, the relentless mental and physical abuse toward her and others, owned and ruled by a man who can only be described as a monster. She dares not hope for escape or any other kind of life outside of this one. Hope is dangerous and the punishments brutal. So for now, to avoid death, she dances. Although she will probably dance until she dies anyway. But her latest partner is like none she has encountered. Ezra kindles her spark – a flame she had let extinguish in the face of her horrific reality. That spark is a dangerous thing to have. But it also allows her to live again. Knowing her time is likely drawing to a close, she allows herself to get lost in Ezra and everything he represents – a life she could have had one upon a time. But even as her heart softens towards the rebellious dancer, the fear of their imminent demise is never too far from their minds. They have a performance to prepare for and once the curtain closes, so may their time together come to a tragic end.

Ezra doesn’t know what the hell has happened. Snatched away following a performance in Russia, he fails to completely grasp the seriousness of his new situation. A situation, he is told, that is also his new reality from which there is no escape. Ezra is now owned – a slave to Nikolai just as Anya is. He will not be broken, but as his rebellion causes Anya pain and abuse, he must fight to submit despite everything inside himself warring against the possession. The things he and Anya experience are made of nightmares. Things that couldn’t possibly be true, yet here he is in the middle of one. Determined to save the woman he is quickly coming to care for, he looks for any opportunity to escape. Wanting to provide Anya with anything she needs that is within his capability, he easily gives in to any desire she expresses despite the severe warning given to them by their Master. Refusing to believe their life is now in the hands of a madman, he still hopes for freedom and a life with Anya away from all of this horrifying sadism. But a beautiful night turns threatening, and it looks as if Ezra will lose Anya for good.

Nikolai – also known as the devil incarnate. He can and will do whatever he wishes. He takes what he wants and right out owns it in every way possible. He inflicts coerced pleasure and pain – but no matter how you slice it, it is abuse both physically and mentally. He’s hateful and evil and has no feelings or emotions what-so-ever. He’s damaged to the point that there will be no saving him. And even if he could be saved, he could never be trusted. He is the worst sort of human being ever. Or is he? Just when you think you have him figured out, the slightest snippet of the tiniest glimpse of humanity is revealed. Or maybe humanity is too big of a word to associate with Nikolai. Because anyone who treats people as he does – who does what he does to Anya – can’t have even the slightest shred of decency inside. Or can he?

Holy effing cliffhangers! What the actual eff just happened? I am brand new to dark romance. I may have read something at one time, but it did not make an impression enough for me to be able to recall it. But this … this twisted, jacked-up, edge of my seat, train-wreck in the making, disaster … I couldn’t get enough of it. And now I am wondering what the hell is wrong with me that I was so enraptured by such a demented read. I mean – sure – this kind of thing exists. We like to pretend that it doesn’t, but in reality, we know it does. It reminds me of the quote from The Greatest Showman – something like people don’t want to admit it, but they are fascinated with the exotic and macabre. It’s why they stare at it. It’s why – knowing I was headed straight for a disaster in the making – because yes, I did read the disclaimers and still I opted to read the book knowing how much I personally despise cliffhangers – and I kept reading. Unable to look away. And now NPH is singing in my ear to “look away”. But no, I didn’t. And what’s more. I couldn’t. And beyond that, I won't when the next book comes out. When is that, by the way? Because I need to reel myself in from that horrifying cliffhanger. What the hell kind of author does that to a reader? Oh yeah! One that knows her shit. Because damn. I’m wrecked. I was so caught up in the misery that I didn’t even pay attention to picking out favorite lines or a vocabulary word as is my normal review custom. I mean this is something I do automatically and I just plain wasn’t capable of it while sucked into these pages.

Trigger warning – FIRST, you absolutely must read the disclaimers before reading this book/series. It isn’t pretty and for some, it will be impossible to stomach. SECOND There is abuse on several occasions – one instance even resulting in death – and rape; even kind of a double rape. This book is gritty and rough and graphic. It isn’t your average romance read. If that’s what you came for, then you will be sadly disappointed. I hated Nikolai and wished him nothing but death. I wished every single member of the human trafficking families a slow and painful death. They are nauseating people. Nothing about Nikolai and Anya was OK – yet Ezra and Anya provided the opposing light to Nikolai’s foreboding darkness. Somehow, even in this soul-crushing environment and against the worst sort of odds, a tale of a beautiful love was told. Ezra and Anya connected at the most fundamental level and became one another’s lifelines. In effect, they were the reason to survive another day, to push to keep going despite their precarious situation. Not knowing if this day would be their last. Not knowing if they would have any time together beyond their performance. So they embraced what they could accomplish together. Comfort found in each other’s arms. Something so basic, but that had been denied to Anya for years. And Ezra could have continued to push back, but being a good person – something Nikolai could never aspire to be – he backed down to try and protect her. They were a beautiful couple born of tragedy and tiny triumphs that only they shared. A love that would span time and space even if separated, however unwillingly. And now, in the final scene of this first installment of what promises to be a whirlwind trilogy, their future is hanging on the brink of the edge of the worst possible scenario. A scenario that had me screaming well before it occurred for them to not allow certain things to take place. I knew it would happen and yet couldn’t look away. It was the worst reading experience of my life – knowing what words would appear and even still praying that they wouldn’t.

I don’t even know what else to say. I’m not sure I can take the emotional torment associated with a dark romance. And yet I crave more. I’m so conflicted. This book is going to sit with me for a long while. Likely until I can jump into the next book and hopefully attain a bit of peace following that gut-wrenching cliffhanger. And fricking Nikolai. Just when I was sure he was as evil as evil could ever possibly be – we get this tiniest of a tiny glimpse into what seemed like human emotion. I mean, WHAT? There is no redemption for him. Period. But it almost seemed like there could be. At one point I felt sorry for the douchenozzle. And promptly hated myself for it. Gah! Fricking mind-blowing hot mess! I still can’t quite wrap my head around all of it. And then I think – I shouldn’t want to wrap my head around it. It was seriously messed up. Yet here I am, arguing with myself again because I want to understand and my only hope of trying to get there is by finishing the series. I know it just as surely as I know I will likely be even more wrecked after the next installment. So here’s my bottom line. Dark romance is not for the faint of heart. It takes a particular kind of reader to enjoy such a twisted version of a love story. And I am beginning to believe that perhaps Nikolai was showing love in his own way despite how beyond backward his version is. If you read the disclaimer and this review and shudder over any part of it – and I’m not talking those delicious tingly shudders – then it’s more than likely not going to be a good match for you. If you want to see what dark romance is all about, then by all means. Check it out – but tread carefully. Those with delicate sensibilities are sure to run away screaming. And those that are a little bit twisted already – people like me – may find a new genre in which they find enjoyment.

Kindle version provided by Xpresso Book Tours/Author in exchange for an honest review.