Blue Arrow Island Series by Brenda Rothert – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Blue Arrow Island Series by Brenda Rothert – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Wed, 20 May 2026 17:50:34 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.2 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Blue Arrow Island Series by Brenda Rothert – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 Crimson Shore (Blue Arrow Island #2) Read Online Brenda Rothert http://www.wownovels.com/crimson-shore-blue-arrow-island-2-read-online-brenda-rothert Wed, 20 May 2026 17:50:34 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/crimson-shore-blue-arrow-island-2-read-online-brenda-rothert Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Suspense Authors: Brenda Rothert Series: Blue Arrow Island Series by Brenda Rothert
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 110757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)

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Power. Betrayal. A love that could save them all—or destroy everything.
Briar Hollis made her choice, but Blue Arrow Island doesn't forgive. It doesn't forget. And it sure as hell doesn't let you leave unscathed. The war for control of the brutal island is escalating, and now that Briar has allies at her side, the stakes have never been higher.

A new player has entered the game.
When a new prisoner arrives on the island's blood-soaked shores, the fragile balance of power shatters. The rules have changed. Survival now demands impossible choices. Briar is still learning to wield the power the island gifted her—but time is running out.

He shattered her heart. Now she's all that stands between him and oblivion.
The war between the island's ruthless leaders has turned personal, and Briar stands at the center of a storm whose destruction won't end at the shore. The man who destroyed her—whose lies cut deeper than any blade—harbors a power so volatile it could consume everything. But it's killing him from the inside out.
To defeat the darkness rising from the island's depths, Briar must do the trust the beautiful, broken man who taught her that love and betrayal are two sides of the same coin

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PART ONE

1

“When my brother put his newborn daughter in my arms for the first time, I loved you from that moment. Anything I do to keep you safe is well worth it. You’re all I have left.” - Excerpt from an unsent letter by Virginia Marsden to her niece

Briar

I don’t feel great about punching my best friend in the face so hard she staggers and drops to the ground, but it had to be done.

“Okay,” Amira huffs, quickly rolling to her stomach and getting into a crouch. “I get it.”

She’s a quick learner, but I’m a ruthless teacher. I spent a week coaching her in hand-to-hand combat—now it’s all execution. And her lessons are like the ones my father gave me and my sister. Unfair, but effective.

Your opponents won’t tell you a hit is coming. You’ll be on your feet one second and on your back the next, and before you take another breath, you’ll be dead.

I carry my parents with me. Dad’s combat lessons were grounded in his love for us. He wanted me and Mae to be able to defend ourselves against any opponent. I want the same for Amira.

She gets to her feet, fists up to protect her battered face. The girl can take a punch, but I don’t want her to have to take them from men who are twice her size and much stronger than either of us.

“First strike usually wins,” I remind her. “Don’t hesitate.”

She goes for my knees with a sharp kick. I evade it, grabbing her foot, twisting it, and shoving her back to the ground. Dirt from the training arena clouds into her face when her palms land.

I’m on her, lightly pressing the toe of my boot into her side. “I’m about to fuck up your insides. Move, Amira!”

She groans and starts crawling away.

Zara, watching us while she fletches arrows, tips her chin at me. “Fighting weaker opponents gets you off, doesn’t it?”

“Eat shit.” I shoot her a disgusted glare. “We’re training.”

“You don’t have to injure people to teach them. I never broke a bone learning.”

She’s never letting me live down Amira’s broken finger from a couple weeks ago, even though it was Amira’s fault.

“That’s probably why I’m a better fighter than you,” I fire back.

“You mispronounced arrogant bitch.”

I turn, closing the distance between us. If it’s an ass kicking she wants, I’ll deliver.

Someone grabs a fistful of the back of my T-shirt and pulls me backward.

“Don’t take the bait, Briar.”

I don’t even have to turn. That smoky, deliberate voice belongs to Nova, who never loses her temper the way I sometimes do. Zara knows how to set me off.

Nova’s right. I shake my head and go back over to Amira, who’s on her feet now.

“Zara. Training drills.”

The clipped command forms a fist around my heart. Even after three weeks of us not speaking to each other, Marcus is never far from my mind. And due to both of us working in camp security, he’s usually physically close, too.

Everything is different now. I used to fight my urges to jump into his arms and beg him to take me back to our room for slow, sweaty sex. Now I have to keep myself from punching him in the balls every time I see him.

The knife still feels freshly buried in my heart. Every day of the past few months on Blue Arrow Island has been a battle to survive. Life on the mainland is a struggle under the regime, too, but at least the rules are clear.

The island is a fresh tropical hell where death awaits in many forms. The cutthroats in the Rising Tide tribe. Genetically modified animals. Controlled climate extremes. The ticking time bomb inside all of us from aromium, the experimental compound Marcus helped create.

It almost killed him. The days he spent unconscious, hanging between life and death, were agonizing. I’ve never felt a betrayal as deeply as his, but I didn’t want him to die. He needs to bear witness to the destruction he helped cause.

“So I should go for the knees, or no?”

Dusty, sunbaked dirt is caked into the sweat on Amira’s face, blood from her nose swirled onto her cheek from her wiping her hand over it while we sparred.

“It’s not a definitive yes or no. If they’re protecting their face, you can’t go for the throat. Your goal is always to escape. But if you can’t—like if someone is holding your arms on the ground, knee the groin and bite anywhere you can. If you can get your opponent onto the ground, taking out a knee will keep them from chasing you.”

“Amira,” Marcus calls.

We both look at him, my eyes locking onto his. I used to see caged desire there. A leader first and a man second, the needs of the camp usually trumping what he wanted for himself. There’s still an intensity in his gaze that makes my heart pound wildly, but I don’t know what it means. Is he angry? Sorry? It’s him not even trying to talk to me that I’m the most incensed over.

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Blue Arrow Island (Blue Arrow Island #1) Read Online Brenda Rothert http://www.wownovels.com/blue-arrow-island-blue-arrow-island-1-read-online-brenda-rothert Sat, 30 Aug 2025 08:42:24 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/blue-arrow-island-blue-arrow-island-1-read-online-brenda-rothert Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Authors: Brenda Rothert Series: Blue Arrow Island Series by Brenda Rothert
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Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)

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A deadly island. A brutal regime. A forbidden attraction that could destroy them both.

Briar Hollis would rather die fighting than live kneeling—and New America's brutal regime is about to grant her wish. Condemned for refusing to breed the next generation of their twisted society, she's given an execution or exile to Blue Arrow Island, where survival is measured in heartbeats and mercy is a luxury no one can afford.

The island doesn't just break prisoners—it devours them.

Blue Arrow isn't just a prison; it's a savage paradise where predators lurk and the laws of science don’t apply. Here, mercenaries rule through blood and brutality, and every shadow hides a new threat. But Briar didn't come here to surrender.

Then she meets him.

Dark, lethal, and infuriatingly magnetic, he commands the island's most feared faction with an iron fist and secrets that could either save her life or end it. Their chemistry is a live wire—explosive, consuming, and absolutely forbidden. He's everything she should avoid, yet she finds herself drawn to the dangerous game they're playing, where one wrong move could mean death... or something far more dangerous.

Love.

As the island's mysteries unravel and prisoners lose their grip on sanity, Briar discovers she holds the key to destroying the twisted new world order. But it will require her to trust the one man who could betray her, navigate deadly alliances, and survive a power struggle that will test every limit she thought she had.
In a world where trust is a death sentence and love is the ultimate rebellion, how far will she go to burn it all down?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PART ONE

1

There’s a cost to what I do. It’s too heavy at times. But I’ve brought that cost on others, so I suppose the least I can do is bear it, even if it eventually crushes me.

Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Randall McClain

I’m alive. At least, I think so. Surely the afterlife doesn’t smell like diesel fumes and salt water. It’s been a long time since I breathed in anything but the musty decay of a prison cell.

I shift and raise my fingertips to my cracked lips, a bolt of pain zinging through one of my shoulders. When I open my eyes, overpowering light makes me squeeze them shut again. I’ve been in the dark for weeks; my eyes can’t handle the brightness.

Something nudges my leg. I ignore it, gently running my fingers over my wrists. I’m not tied up anymore. The welts left behind by the binds ache, but it’s nothing compared to my raging headache.

“Wake up,” someone whispers urgently, nudging my leg again.

I squint against the sunlight that floods my eyes, getting into a sitting position. A gust of thick, humid air blasts my ripe, unwashed scent straight into my nostrils.

I’m on the dingy white fiberglass deck of a boat, one of about two dozen people. Some of them are still sleeping.

No, not sleeping. The last thing I remember is guzzling the jug of water guards brought to my cell. My painful, swollen lips and intense thirst tell me I haven’t had water in a long time, and I’m groggy. I was unconscious. And the other people lying on the deck are too.

“We’re here,” the person who nudged me whispers.

I turn to look at the woman sitting next to me, my eyes starting to adjust. Her black, shoulder-length hair has dried blood crusted in it and I can feel the dread in her golden-brown eyes. She glances down at my wrists, and I assume she’s looking at my rope burns.

Then I see them in clear light for the first time—the thick black X tattoos that stretch from knuckles to wrist on the backs of both of my hands. It’s been several weeks since I was branded with the marks, but I couldn’t see them in the darkness. It’s like I’m looking at someone else’s hands, the skin familiar but the ink foreign.

She holds out her wrist, bearing the same tattoo. “I’m Amira.”

“Briar.”

“They’re taking us to an island.”

I fight to swallow against the dryness in my throat. I had no choice really, between exile and death for my so-called crime, but I thought exile meant a remote prison where I could plan an escape. How the hell will I escape from an island?

“Get up!” a deep male voice booms. “You shit sacks are jumping off this rig in about two minutes. Stand up so we can get a good look at you.”

I count the guards, all men wearing dark uniforms with the New America flag emblazoned on a large patch on the shoulder. The flag’s stripes are vertical now, the resemblance to a cell a fitting metaphor. The guards are a motley mixture of big and small, shaven and unshaven, fastidious and disheveled, because there are only two qualifications to serve in President Soren Whitman’s rapidly growing empire: be male and believe in Whitman’s brutal reshaping of society to serve his twisted biblical agenda.

There are eight of them, all strapped with multiple weapons. One of them, a bulky man with his finger casually resting on the hilt of a dagger sheathed at his waist, studies several of us and calls out, “I’ll do a hundred credits on the biter.”

I force myself to look down and appear demure, though it’s a little late for that. He’s talking about me—I bit the thumb of one of the guards so hard he had to get it stitched up. He was trying to carry a girl out of our cell, and there’s only one reason guards come alone to cells late at night.

I’m sure that same guard, or maybe a different one, got that girl another time. But not that night. That night, she was safe.

“Fifty on that little Hispanic one,” another guard says, leering at Amira.

“I’m fucking Egyptian,” she says under her breath.

“Don’t,” I caution her.

Whitman’s soldiers take extra glee in being cruel to women, and we can’t give them a reason to quietly cut our throats out here, where no one will ever know.

While one guard finishes taking bets, another walks around, kicking the people still lying motionless. Two of them groan and move. Six don’t. He kicks them again, pulling his foot back farther this time to inflict more pain.

“Six dead,” he says flatly. “You want us to throw them over?”

Why are six prisoners dead? What the hell did they do to us?

“Yeah, I’m not burying those fucks,” another guard says. “Toss ‘em.”

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