antihero – Elizabeth Barone

Does horror belong in romance?

The infamous Butcher & Blackbird ice cream scene broke the internet. In the scene, our hero Rowan accidentally eats ice cream made from human semen. A little later, they find the maker of this confectionery nightmare eating it on purpose. The ice cream only has a brief cameo, but it ignited an age old debate. Should romance be gory?

In mainstream romance, we focus on the cute moments in life packaged in prose revised to Hallmark perfection. If there are any corpses, they’re reduced to a more palatable mention.

Sometimes that escape from reality is desperately needed. We slip into picturesque struggling towns that won’t really go under, and even if someone dies, their death serves as some kind of lesson for our main characters. We will never, ever see our hero eat cum ice cream. The only thing he’s eating is our heroine’s pussy. 😈

Or our other hero’s cock. Whatever works!

I love when dark romance marries romance with horror. It’s a personal gripe of mine that the dark romance section is packed with titles that contain little to no romance. Often they’re actually vengeance stories, our heroine getting her just desserts. I love these stories, too; it’s so healing to read a badass woman killing rapists. But when I pick up any romance, it’s because I’m in the mood for romance, ya know?

That’s why I loved Butcher & Blackbird so much. Brynne Weaver balanced revenge with a slow burn love story and plenty of gore for the triumvirate of dark romance. There’s a running bit where our hero busts our heroine’s balls for always doing a bad job gouging out the left eye of her victims. At first she’s annoyed by this wry observation. Then it becomes an inside joke, evolving as their relationship does.

The semen ice cream scene is such a brief one, yet clearly made an impression because people are still talking about it. It doesn’t read like the shock value I too often see in dark romance. It’s set up like a comedy bit, which is a smart move on Weaver’s part because comedy and horror are closely related. There’s a reason why Jordan Peele of the Key and Peele comedic duo went on to become a horror king: both genres are all about timing. The creme de cum serves as an opportunity for the reader to feel Sloane’s and Rowan’s shock. As horror fans, we’ve seen a lot of cannibalism, so the usual stuff won’t work for us. Weaver gets that. When Rowan takes a bite, we’re not just grossed out, we’re laughing in horror because omfg, he for real ate it, and most of us can recall the taste and texture of both ice cream and semen, so we’re both horrified for him and laughing in relief that it isn’t us.

In case you can’t tell, I’ve got a bit of a writing crush on her.

The scene is about as skippable as spicy bits; you can skim if you’d prefer and you won’t miss much, other than the two main characters bonding over this tragedy.

I want to see more dark romance like this: books that blend all the feels of horror with the rush of falling in love. The weirdo who made the ice cream isn’t what really scares our MCs. It’s the notion of giving away their heart to the other person, and that’s what they really have to vanquish to get their HEA.

What are your favorite romances that blend in horror elements? Tell us the title and author, please!

Photo by American Heritage Chocolate on Unsplash

Butcher & Blackbird puts the “cream” in ice cream, and the romance in dark romance

The tears in Sloane’s eyes shift and shine as they gather at her lash line. “I am not unlovable.” She jabs her bloody finger in my direction, punctuating every word. “I am very fucking lovable.”

Again and again, certain books come to me when I need them most. I’m a survivor of sexual assault. I couldn’t even start processing the things that were done to me until a different traumatic event occurred in 2015 and my therapist diagnosed me with complex PTSD. The other day, I ran into one of my abusers (almost literally), and it sent me into a bit of a spiral. I processed it over a few days, going through all sorts of emotions. Then I needed a distraction—a safe distraction.

This is why trigger warnings are so important. I get that for some readers, a list of TWs can look like spoilers and, for others, triggers are more like tropes, in that they purposely look for books featuring specific triggers—reading certain triggers can help some survivors process traumatic events. For some survivors, though, those lists are lifelines.

I’ve long struggled to find my place in dark romance, as both a reader and writer. I’ve read romances marketed as lighthearted rom-coms that opened with graphic rape scenes or contained disturbing plot twists that you’d need therapy for IRL. These triggers can be so validating in some readers’ healing journeys, while detrimental to others. This is why I believe trigger warnings are necessary; readers who don’t need them can ignore them, and readers who do need them can utilize them.

I can’t tell author Brynne Weaver how much I appreciate her not only having a content warnings section on her website, but also for writing spicy romance that is always consensual. For me, this is imperative whether I’m reading dark or light romance. I’m super cautious about the books I read, and having an extensive list of CWs helped me decide to give Butcher & Blackbird a shot. (So did this blog post and this Amazon review.)

I’m seeing a trend that’s fascinating me. [In some dark romances] we get strong, vulnerable, and resilient women who take the abuses and transgressions of life and channel them to move on and become these [badass] warrior women who fight for the voiceless victimized who cannot speak [nor] stand for themselves. While viewed by many as just smut, these types of books have the potential to do incredible collective trauma healing work surround women’s issues of SA, assault, and violence. So read all the smut you love, because you may be healing the traumas of yourself, your community, and your ancestors!
Amazon reader

(I really want to talk more about how healing dark romance is, but this is supposed to be a review, so I’ll stay on topic!)

So I went in, cautiously, eyes wide open for the two TWs I might have an issue with due to my own history, poised to skip or put the book aside altogether, if need be. I didn’t have to do either of those things.

Butcher & Blackbird is funny. I was chuckling just reading the excerpt (Chapter 1). Weaver is flawless in her balance of dark subjects with perfectly timed humor and well-written gore. I’ve read a lot of dark romances that lean heavily on shock value but with very little substance, and with more smut than romance; they’d be more appropriately filed in horror. Butcher & Blackbird isn’t like that. There’s heart and warmth to it. There’s real romance—actual swoony moments that had me forgetting about the bodies that needed hiding. Moments that had me tearily “Aw”- and “Oh”-ing out loud the same I would if I were reading cute small town romance. Just with lobotomies.

I point to the not-so-good doctor, whose blood trickles down his face in drying streaks. “Left eye hole. Always a little gouge-y.”

Maybe it’s because my IRL “book boyfriend” is a man who knows how to love a traumatized woman, but I have such a love for this trope in dark romance. Rowan doesn’t need push around Sloane for us to know he’s ✨tortured✨. He doesn’t swing his dick around to tell us he’s strong. He takes Sloane pretending not to know who he is in stride. He gives her space and time, patiently and intentionally earning her trust. When it comes to sex, he’s giving, cognizant of her need for safety but also not afraid to dick her down. Their dynamic reminds me a lot of my own, IRL, and gave me another safe space that I desperately needed, while also giving me an escape from the real world.

In the end, Rowan and Sloane come together to heal from their pasts—another aspect of dark romance that I have big love for. After all, we’re talking romance; love can and does conquer all. The ending had me smiling so big, and I loved that Weaver didn’t just dump us off—she gave us an epilogue that connected to the next book in the series, plus a bonus epilogue that gave us a sweet happily ever after that was so very fitting to these characters.

I loved this book so much, I could go on and on—I loved and strongly related to Sloane being a lone wolf with one best friend, and as a horror fan I really enjoyed the gore and almost episodic serial killer segments. I know Weaver didn’t write this book for me, per se, but man, it really felt like it. It was just what I needed, reminding me that no matter the things I’ve been through, the beauty I have in my life far outweighs the ugly.

“You have never been unlovable. You were just waiting for someone who will love you for who you are, not for who they want you to be. I can do that, if you’ll let me.” I press my lips to hers and taste salt and blood but pull away before the kiss deepens. “I fucking adore you, Sloane Sutherland. I wanted you from that first day at Briscoe’s. I have loved you for years. I’m not stopping. Not ever.”

Check it Out

If you liked A Disturbing Prospect, you’ll like Butcher & Blackbird. Like Olivia and Cliff, the lead couple punishes abusers together, the romance is an achingly sweet slow burn, and the story is fast-paced with plenty of thrills and delicious darkness.

“Echoes from the Past” | River Reapers MC Miniseries: Part 1

She even reminds me of Bree, with the smoker’s pulls around her mouth and that haunted survivor look in her eyes, the one we all seem to share—and recognize immediately.

Note from the Author

You asked for more Olivia and Cliff, very very nicely, so here it is! This miniseries runs for 12 weeks (and you don’t need to have read the books to follow along). So grab a snack and drink, kick back, and enjoy. 🖤

Olivia

History repeats. That’s all I can think as I sit across from Ravage and he tells me it’s my “duty” to throw the club’s big Fourth of July party. I give him a skeptical look through slitted eyes because I’m pretty sure he’s messing with me. He made me throw the club’s big Halloween party, and we all know how that ended.

Okay, it actually turned out great, but that’s not the point.

“I’m not a prospect anymore,” I remind him. “I’m not even your bartender anymore. Can’t you foist this on someone else?”

“We don’t have any prospects right now,” he reminds me in his gravelly voice, “and you’re the lowest man on the totem pole, so to speak,” he adds.

I groan. “I’m a full-time social worker. I don’t have time to organize something this big.”

The River Reapers MC cookout for the Fourth of July is the party of the year. Bikers from other clubs come out in droves. A couple hundred people crowd Ravage and Shannon’s backyard. It’s not no little Halloween haunted house that goes up for an evening. It’s an all-day affair that carries late into the night, often the next morning and day.

“You did great. You can handle this.”

His father-knows-best attitude drives me crazy—and it’s why I love him so much. He’s been looking out for me my whole life, even when I didn’t know I had a guardian angel in the form of a grizzled biker. I’d do anything for him because he’s done everything for me. He’s been a father to me while my biological father cowers and my real dad was in prison.

That’s the only reason I don’t slouch out of his office like a teenager who’s been told to go clean their room.

“And Olivia?” he calls as I reach the hall.

“Yes?” I’m almost afraid to ask.

“The hotdogs. They have to be Deutschmacher—”

“I know, I know. I’ll get you your ‘douchey’ hotdogs,” I tease, purposely mispronouncing the only brand he’ll eat. The man is a picky toddler.

“Thank you,” he says, and the hint of a smile plays on his lips. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him smile, not in a happy way, so I hightail it out of there before those icy blue eyes pierce me.

I don’t make it far before I run into the other man who’s done everything for me.

“There you are.” Cliff bends down to kiss me, his beard grazing my cheek, his hands brushing my hips as he pulls me into an embrace. “I heard the boss wanted to see you. Everything cool?”

I chuckle darkly. “Define ‘cool.’ He’s making me plan the Fourth bash.”

“Damn. What’d you do to deserve that?” he jokes.

“Apparently too good a job on the Halloween thing.” Shrugging, I loop my arms around his neck and lean into him. “Maybe you can help me de-stress a little…” I say it suggestively, let it hang between us. I’ve been trying—and failing—to keep it casual between us. We’ve been everything but, not with the things we’ve done together.

Things most couples never dream think of—like disposing of rapists.

“I’d love to,” he says, with that tender emphasis he keeps putting on the L-word.

I know how he feels. It’s obvious. What isn’t so obvious is how I feel, and how to keep my heart safe after everything I’ve been through.

“There’s someone else who wants to see you, though,” he continues.

“Who?”

He leads me out of The Wet Mermaid’s employees-only area and onto the strip club and bar’s main floor. At this time of morning, it should be empty—a couple stragglers from last night’s drinking, if anything. But a small figure in a too-big hoodie sits huddled at a table.

At first I think they must be a kid—a teenager, maybe. As I approach, she lifts her head and the hood falls away. I see crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes and I put her in her forties, just a few years older than my mother.

She even reminds me of Bree, with the smoker’s pulls around her mouth, the perpetual terrors life’s rained down on her displayed for all to see by the elevens on her brow. She’s got that haunted survivor look in her eyes, the one we all seem to share—and recognize immediately.

It gives “it takes one to know one” a whole new meaning.

“What is this?” I whisper to Cliff as we draw closer.

She stands. “Shannon told me I could… She said to ask for Olivia.”

I throw on my social worker face, the one that says “I’ve seen everything and I’m listening.” Except I’m pretty sure most social workers haven’t seen half the shit I have.

I drop into the chair opposite her and motion for her to sit, too. Cliff makes himself scarce, probably sensing she’s nervous to talk in front of a man. He’s empathetic like that.

“What’s your name?” I ask her.

“Tommie,” she says. Chipped and clipped fingernails shred a napkin. “Shannon said maybe you could help…”

I’m gaining quite the reputation. If it keeps going this way, I’ll have to set up a hotline or something, the way Shannon’s Haven has a private number that rape and domestic violence victims can use to contact her shelter.

That is, anyway, if Ravage doesn’t take me to the river for all the trouble I keep bringing to his front door.

This one isn’t my fault, though—I can honestly say that. I start to tell her that she’s got the wrong place, that I can’t bring another body to the club, that I’m so sorry for what happened to her, but I can’t afford to be involved with another murder. Then she says something really interesting, something that makes me shut up and listen.

“My mother went missing in the nineties, and I think your club had something to do with it.”

Like I said, history repeats.

To Be Continued…

Read Part 2

Photo by Drew Beamer on Unsplash

“It’s Blood I Want” | Excerpt From A FATAL PROSPECT

I take the weight that’s pitted in my belly, wrap it in a kerosene-soaked blanket, and drop a match in. This pain has to have a purpose. I can’t let anything like this happen to Bree, or Bryce, or anyone else, ever again.

Even though the air is crisp and cool, sweat soaks through the back of my shirt, the fabric sticking uncomfortably as I crouch in the back of the van. My pulse thumps in my throat in time with the swirl of fury in my heart.

Abraham signals a right turn, and Vaughn plants a hand on the metal wall for balance. Mimicking him, I place my palms on the floor. Lucky Stixx gets to ride up front, where there are actual seatbelts. I didn’t even say goodbye to Cliff.

We pull onto Bristol Street, a spur off of Platts Mill Road. The old Platt Brothers factory is just a short walk over.

“Let’s creep up on them, watch for a minute,” I tell the men with me, passing around the ski masks.

“Rui’s gonna fucking kill me if I get arrested,” Abraham says, but yanks his mask on anyway.

We jump out of the van, closing doors gently so the sound doesn’t echo over to the factory. The night presses down on us, lit only by the orange glow of old street lights. Out here, I can make out some of the stars.

“Let’s get this over with,” Abraham says.

“Olivia, you take point. This is your kill,” Stixx tells me.

“Now, now,” I remind him with an exaggerated wink he probably can’t see. “Ravage said no blood.”

Yet it’s blood I want.

Read A Fatal Prospect Now

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My Favorite Revenge Quotes, Part I

Revenge is my favorite trope, no matter what the genre. It’s got to be justified, which is a whole other blog post, but as long as I can empathize with the antihero/heroine, I’m here for it.

Many of my favorite stories have revenge as a theme or element. My love for vigilante justice goes all the way back to watching The Crow while sleeping over my cousin’s. The aesthetic of the movie and graphic novel make my goth heart happy, but the concept of the crow choosing someone to bring back for revenge, for one night only, gives me warm tingles all the way down to my toes.

Here are some of my favorite revenge quotes. Follow me on Instagram for more!

“I’m a fighter. I believe in the eye-for-an-eye business. I’m no cheek turner. I got no respect for a man who won’t hit back. You kill my dog, you better hide your cat.”

-Muhammad Ali

“Revenge is a confession of pain.”

-Latin Proverb

“We should forgive our enemies, but not before they’re hanged.”

-Heinrich Heine

“When seeking revenge, dig two graves—one for yourself.”

-Douglas Horton

“An eye for an eye is never enough. Never, never, never.”

-Adrian Phoenix

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Photo by Tingey Injury Law Firm on Unsplash