A review by glowstars
Playing With Knives by A.J. Merlin

4.0

You know a book’s going to be fun when it starts with a thought like:

"Oh God, he knows I broke into Ms. Clutterbucker’s house while she was away on vacation and stole her remote batteries."


Who steals remote batteries? A klepto like Willow Carlysle is the answer to that question. She loves stealing things that “would prove to be a minor inconvenience, and taking batteries accomplished that.” This isn’t a story about Will, the inconvenient thief. This is a story about Will, a woman who gets caught up with the Pack. She has no idea what she’s walking into when she ‘steals’ Lysander’s wallet or breaks into the Pack’s Air b’n’b to find out more about them, but truthfully she was involved with them from the moment her roommate Ashley was murdered. She just didn’t know it yet.

Kleptomania aside, Will is a character with a lot of depth behind her. I’ve read quite a few murderously crazy reverse harem type novels recently, and one thing the main characters all have in common is the enjoyment of the kill and sometimes even a near-psychotic lack of remorse over their actions. Will does not fit that mould. She struggles with the fact that she’s killed somebody, even though it was more than deserved; she realises that her lack of guilt is not a normal response – it’s as if she knows that despite the dark things she ends up doing to protect herself and the pack, she needs to retain her humanity.

“He would’ve killed you,” Rhys went on, tucking his face against my throat so that his nose skimmed my shoulder lightly.

“I didn’t want to kill him.”

“Own it. There’s no going back now.” He used his grip on my hands to twist the glass by increments, and watched Donald’s face twist into an expression of agony. “No apologies to be made either. Look at where you stabbed him.”


Merlin has created some wonderfully distinct characters that blend intense with playful while still managing to seem “just not right” or even a little unhinged at times. The individual members of the harem are prone to mood swings, making their actions and responses excitingly unpredictable.

Curiosity killed the cat, Lysander whispered in my ear, though I knew that the echoing memory had to be just that.

And I don’t think anything at all will bring you back, little cat.