Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“No, you won’t.”
She physically jerks forward. Admittedly, she’s strong, probably due to the adrenaline and the anguish that’s creasing her brows. But she’s not strong enough to push me away.
When that tactic doesn’t work, she uses her rifle to try to hit me, but I easily grab the end of it, wrench it out of her hold, and throw it on the nearby sofa.
So she goes for my rifle like a fucking survivor with no care for her life. I remove it from around my shoulder and throw it onto a chair.
Does that stop her? Of course not.
She all but engages in hand-to-hand combat with me, knowing full well that she can’t win.
Her blows are vicious, full of contempt, and focused on one mission—getting through me to the door.
I kick her in the shin, and she falls to her knees on the wooden floor, but she promptly jumps back up, fists protecting her face.
So I do it again, harder this time so that the thud resounds in the air around us. If I hit her for real, I’ll definitely reopen her stitches, so this is probably the only way to make her give up without my resorting to bodily harm.
The little shit actually stands back up, though slower this time, and resumes her combat stance. Guard up, shaky legs barely holding her upright, and face red.
I give the illusion that I’ll go for her legs again and she steps back, but when she does, I grab her by the throat and push her against the nearest wall.
Her whole body goes slack, whether due to the blow or my closeness, I don’t know.
She doesn’t even attempt to fight my grip, but she does try to kick me. I tighten my hold on her neck, giving her enough room to breathe, but not enough to encourage a fight.
“Snap the fuck out of it. If you go, you’re dead.”
“So be it.” The resignation in her tone is final and resolute as she holds her head high. “What’s the point of living if I can’t even protect myself or anyone around me? If I’m supposed to live on after losing so many people, then I’d rather not!”
Angry tears stream down her cheeks and cling to her chin before hitting my hand.
“Let me go, Kirill.”
“I didn’t save you so I could personally send you to your death.”
“Why did you save me?” Her tone weakens. “You shouldn’t have. If you hadn’t, Nadia and Nicholas would still be alive.”
“We don’t know that. No one does. But there’s one thing for certain. If you go back there, all the effort they put into you will be for nothing.” I release her. “If that’s what you want, go right ahead.”
Her lips purse, then she grinds her teeth and releases a sound of absolute desperation.
This time, she can’t seem to control the tears that pour out, soaking her chin. She tries to wipe them away and miserably fails to put an end to them.
“Why am I so weak?” She dabs at her eyes with both hands even as she cries like a baby.
“You’re not weak.” I pat her shoulder. “You’re just human.”
It’s only a simple gesture and a few words to make her snap the fuck out of it, but it’s as if I’ve opened Pandora’s box.
Sasha throws her whole weight against me. Her head leans on my chest, and her sniffles echo in the air.
“I can’t…I just can’t stop thinking about how it’s all because of me… Everyone dies because I exist in their lives…”
Who’s everyone?
I don’t ask that, though, knowing full well that she’s not in the right state of mind to answer. Or that if I do ask, she might pull away, and that option doesn’t necessarily appeal to me.
She places her chin on my chest, staring up at me with eyes so wretched and full of pain, they nearly appear black. “Am I cursed?”
“Only if you believe you are. Try to think that you’re not.”
An ironic smile lifts the corner of her full lips. “You make it sound so easy.”
“You can make it easy.”
She buries her face in my chest again and nuzzles her nose in my clothes. My hand twitches, but I have no fucking clue if it’s to remove her or hold her closer to me.
One thing’s for certain, her closeness has become fucking unbearable ever since the day she ‘unknowingly’ dry humped me.
I was seconds away from pinning her down, tearing her clothes off, biting her skin, and fucking her until she cried and screamed.
Every time she’s come close since, I’ve been having the same images. Only, they’ve intensified tenfold.
Like right now.
It doesn’t matter that she’s grieving or having a weak moment that she hates so much. All I can think about is biting, marking, and sucking on her skin. Maybe even confiscating these tears so that they belong only to me.