Reader's Edyn: Blitz: The Game Maker by Kitty Thomas + GIVEAWAY

**The Game Maker by Kitty Thomas**

Good Morning, Everyone! So thrilled to see you all today! I haven’t seen much by this author yet. In fact, it is only her second time on the blog. But you all know how much I love finding out about books and authors. I was intrigued last time, so let’s see what we all think of this new dark romance! Please allow me to once again feature on the blog Kitty Thomas and her latest release, THE GAME MAKER … Plus, a GIVEAWAY!

**KITTY THOMAS**

**BIO**

KITTY THOMAS writes dark stories that play with power and have unconventional HEAs. She began publishing in early 2010 with her bestselling COMFORT FOOD and is considered one of the original authors of the dark romance subgenre.

To find out FIRST when a new book comes out, subscribe to Kitty's New Release List.

To find out more about Ms. Thomas, please visit:

https://bookandmainbites.com/KittyThomas

**THE GAME MAKER**

Publication date: July 15, 2020

Genres: Adult, Romance, Dark Romance

**BLURB**

I was too isolated. I was about to be evicted. I made a final desperate call to the man who ruined my life, but he didn't come for me.

Someone else did.

And then there was Seven. When I first woke in the cell, I thought he was my captor, but he is a pawn, like me.

Seven is beautiful and kind. I want him so much I can barely breathe. He wants to protect me from our captor, but he can't.

We are both locked inside a game neither of us can ever hope to win, and even though it's wrong, I'm starting to want both men, not just the good one... the monster as well.

**EXCERPT**

My head is pounding when I regain consciousness. I can't bring myself to open my eyes. I'm lying on a hard surface, which seems weird to me. At first I think I'm lying on the ground outside where I passed out, but there are no city noises. Instead, I hear classical music being piped in from a speaker above me.

And I smell... roses. One of those highly fragrant varieties. I must be at Andrew's place. But why the fuck did he leave me on the ground? It's at this point that I realize I'm naked. Also, Andrew doesn't listen to classical music.

Instinctively, I want to bolt upright and cover myself, but I don't have that kind of reaction time. And it’s a real struggle to open my eyes. When I do, I'm momentarily grateful to be in a dimly lit room.

“A-Andrew?” I croak out. I want to scream at him for dumping me on the ground in his apartment, but I can barely choke his name out. I wait for my eyes to adjust. Everything around me is dark gray, and there's no furniture in this room.

Cell, my mind hisses at me. I am in a cell.

I push myself off the ground into a sitting position and wait for my vision to go back to normal so I can get a sense of where I am. Did Andrew put me in here? He's a bigger bastard than I thought. This is when I finally realize I'm not alone.

There’s a large, dark figure sitting on the ground against the far wall.

“Andrew, you piece of shit. What are you doing?”

I probably shouldn't speak to the person who rescued me from homelessness this way, but I don't care. He needs to grow the fuck up. I expect him to yell at me or threaten to kick me out, but what I hear instead chills me.

“Who's Andrew?”

This is definitely not Andrew's voice. No accent. Plus it's deeper and more frightening. Suddenly the adrenaline hits me, and I have a sudden burst of speed. I back as far from him as I can until I meet the opposite wall. I shield my breasts from his gaze and shift to a sitting position where he can't see other private parts—even though I know he's already seen everything. And possibly done more. I was unconscious after all.

As my vision clears further, it seems that the light in the room gets a little brighter. He's wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, no shoes. His dark hair looks a bit disheveled. He's very attractive. Heart-stoppingly beautiful, actually. It's the kind of unearthly beauty that makes me feel relieved for a moment because I know I'm still passed out. This is a weird dream. I just know it is.

It's not a dream, whispers the same evil internal voice that decided to tell me I was in a cell.

It takes several minutes before my mind is willing to accept what has happened. I don't know if someone put something in my drink or if I was just that drunk. I don't know how long this man stalked me before he took me, but I know I’m looking at the man who kidnapped me.

And now the tears come. It takes every ounce of willpower not to break down into hysterical sobs. This reaction is making a lie out of everything I thought I knew about myself. The strength and control I thought I had in my life. Even up to very recently, I thought I was handling things.

But this is the last straw. It's the last tiny push I needed to find myself in a free fall.

Another dark thought pushes its way into my mind. No one is going to be looking for me. Does the man who took me know that? Andrew sure as shit won't look or file a police report.

My landlady might not realize why I didn't pack my things up first, but as nice as Carolyn is, she'll just be glad she doesn't have to have me forcibly removed. She isn't going to report my disappearance to the police. What disappearance? I've been evicted. I'm not supposed to be there.

There is no reality now but me and my captor. I'm trying desperately not to think about the reasons this man took me. To rape me? To kill me? To torture me? He sure as shit isn't going to let me go when he's done with whatever's on his nefarious agenda. I know you can't appeal to a sociopath, and nobody normal does something like this.

Still, I can't help begging. “P-please don't hurt me.”

“I won't,” he says.

Huh?

“You can let me go,” I say. “I won't say anything.”

“I can't let you go. I didn't put you in here.”

“What?” For a moment, my confusion overtakes my fear. What does he mean he didn't put me in here? Of course he did. Who the fuck can he blame? The invisible demon perched on his shoulder?

He shakes his head slowly. “I'm in the same boat as you, sweetheart.”

I glance back and forth between us. He has clothes on, and they don't look like he's worn them for days. Meanwhile, I'm naked. We are not in the same boat.

“I don't believe you,” I say. “You're playing with me somehow.”

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey. What do we do now?”

We both know what we're supposed to do now, but of course we aren't going to do that. I'm not sure what he'll do if he gets hungry enough. I move back to the place across the room and gingerly sit back down.

“We wait,” he says.

“How long have you been here?”

“A couple of days. I've already looked for escape options. There are none.” He points up at the ceiling. “In the corners, do you see those shiny black things?”

I squint. I hadn't noticed them before. “Yes.”

“Cameras,” he says. “There aren't any in the bathroom, though. Though there are probably listening devices in there.”

I allow this piece of information to settle in my brain.

“W-when was the last time you ate?”

He winces at this. “Don't worry. I ate half an hour before he brought you in.”

“Have you used the shower or the tub?”

“The shower.”

“So he's not going to come in here and hurt us if I...”

The man shakes his head. “He won't come in until I eat. He drugs the food. So if you want to take a bath or a shower, you'll be safe.”

“You won't come in?”

He shakes his head. “I promise.”

“Do you think he'll starve us if we don't do what he says?”

He sighs. “Yes.”

I look away. I don't know what to say to this. It's not as though it would be any great tragedy to sleep with this beautiful man, but I don't think I can do it with someone else watching. I might feel differently about this when I get hungry enough.

He doesn't repeat his request, just continues to watch me. After a few minutes, he stands and walks across the cell. This is the first time he's been this close. I flinch when he reaches me.

He ignores my reaction and sits on the ground beside me, but he doesn't make any attempt to touch me. Instead, he sighs and says, “Starvation is a bad way to die.”

“I know,” I say.

“I don't think you do.”

I start to cry. It's the first time I've broken down since those first moments in the cell. Supposedly, if we have sex, we'll get food. And I want food, but then what happens? The longer I can delay this, the longer I delay the next steps in whatever sick game our captor is playing with us.

“You know what has to happen,” he says, echoing my exact thought of only minutes ago. “What’s the point of letting yourself get sicker and weaker than you need to be? You need your strength. You need to eat.”

“You mean you need to eat,” I say, unable to hide the bitterness seeping into my voice. So the nice guy act is finally ending? The gallant chivalry finally coming to an end. Everyone has a limit. And now I know his.

“I'll be fine,” he says. “I'll be fine a lot longer than you will. Are you going to let yourself starve to death?”

I chance a look into his eyes. “What do you think would happen to you if I did?”

He shrugs. “He'd probably take another girl, bring more bait to tempt me. He wants to turn me into a monster and you...or whoever... into a whore. That's my running theory, anyway.”

He stands and holds a hand out to me.

“What are you doing?”

“Remember what I said about the cameras and the bathroom?”

I nod.

He's still holding his hand out. I try to ignore it.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” he says.

I am so hungry. Finally, I take his hand and let him lead me into the bathroom. He guides me to sit on the edge of the tub and turns the shower on. Then he starts to undress. I tense, part of me wanting to run back into the cell.

“We're going to take a shower, you and I,” he says calmly. “I won't touch you in any way you don't want. And no one will see.”

I know what he's doing. He's trying to make this easier for me. In the end, I'll have to fuck him in the cell in front of the cameras so our sick mystery captor can watch. My co-captive is trying to give us some privacy and the illusion of choice at least to start, at least to let me get used to his body.

“Come on, drop the towel and get in the shower with me.”

He steps into the shower and closes the door behind him. I know he won't hurt me. He hasn't yet. I think I'm safe with this man, and there’s only one way to get food. I take a few slow deep breaths, wipe the stray tears off my cheeks, and take off the towel.

When I open the door, he pulls me in under the rain shower with him. His mouth moves close to my ear. His words are quiet, almost dwarfed by the sound of the water.

“I don't know if there are listening devices in the bathroom, but if there are, the shower may give us some cover. What's your name?”

I pull back from him and look into his eyes—really look at them. I've avoided his gaze so much in my time here. They’re hazel, but they seem far lighter than they are because of his tanned skin and dark hair. He's growing the beginnings of a beard.

“Kate,” I finally say.

“Kate. That's a pretty name. I'm Seven.”

At first I think I don't hear him right. “Seven? Like the number?”

He chuckles. “Yes, like the number.”

“Are you from a big family? Are your siblings all named One through Six?”

“No siblings. Only child. I can be grateful they didn't name me One, I guess.”

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