Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
I swallow the rest of the liquid, letting it turn more of the sharp thoughts in my brain to soft mushy balls that I can’t quite pick up. This is better. Before, I felt everything. Now, it’s all a gentle haze.
I throw money on the bar and stand, swaying on my feet. He lets out a colorful curse and turns away from me, no doubt trying to calm himself by the tension across his shoulders.
Looking at him, his shirt open at the neck and loose, I can still see the cuts in his skin, the perfectly straight lines on his back like someone was keeping time in flesh and blood. Each little tick a countdown to what? I’m not brave enough to ask him, not right now.
“We can go back up if you want?” I say, trying to appease him a little at least.
He spins to face me again, and his eyes are hot now, raging. “We can go back up if I want? Really, how kind of you, Princess. But first, we are taking a little field trip.”
Not so gently, he locks his hand around my wrist and drags me out of the bar, onto the main floor, and down the back entrance we used earlier into the tunnels. They lead to a big concrete central room, which then extends off to multiple hallways. Except, we stop at the hub, and he flips the lights on. It’s still dark and shadowy, barely enough light illuminating the center.
He waves his hand. “You see this pit?”
I nod, wondering if he means something else, trying to grasp the nuance of whatever lesson he’s trying to impart, if only so we can go back upstairs sooner. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself.
“This is where so many of our enemies have been taken out. The walls here don’t echo, even if you think they should. The sound of a bullet doesn’t carry.”
I’m still trying to understand what he’s saying, but not saying. “Is this your way of telling me you’re done babysitting and intend to kill me yourself?”
He jerks my arm and drags me into an adjacent room, flips the light, and slams the door. Then he picks me up around the waist as if I weigh nothing and sits me on the desk. “This is my way of telling you how easy it is to take care of a problem when there are no more solutions to it.”
He steps into me, and for some reason, I widen my legs to let him get close. It’s dumb, and I can’t explain it except part of me wants that cool clear taste of him again. One more time, like this, when it won’t be so strong. When it won’t come with freezing burn.
I’m not brave enough to reach for him first, so we stare at each other, him taller, me having to crane my neck to look up into his eyes.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” he whispers. “Do you know how quickly you could have been gone?”
I nod, not because I feel bad about getting a drink, because it’s the answer he wants. Of course, I understand I put myself at risk, but he seems to think I’m more fragile than I actually am. “What now?”
Isn’t that the question?
He slides his hands up my bare arms so gently, it almost feels like a ghost passing, a lingering touch long enough to send goosebumps across my flesh and nothing more. He stops when he settles his hands on my cheeks again. “You’re a goddamned fucking brat.”
I gulp as he tilts my face again. This time, I know it’s coming. His mouth slants over mine, and this kiss is nothing like the first.
He takes my mouth with the same intensity he spits curses or screams at me. As if he can devour me whole from the inside out. And maybe I want him to.
His teeth scrape along mine, his tongue lays siege, and every part of my mouth becomes his. He marks me, scrapes me, licks me, sucks me, and all I can do is hold on to him and whimper.
The second he releases me, I suck in a great gasp of a breath and stare up at him. He tenses, the tendons in his neck going taut, his chest heaving, as his scars peek above the open buttons. “Why am I doing this?”
I shake my head, unable to speak. Fuck if I know.
He licks his lips, testing, tasting me there. His eyes are bright, his muscles tense, but he still holds my face so gently. “I don’t know what’s going on here.”
This time, I find my voice, enough to goad him. “It’s called lust. You might know that if you weren’t a virgin.”
He narrows his eyes, releases my face, and grabs the hem of my dress. For a second, I think he’s going to rip it and I screech, trying to grab his hands, but he jerks it up around my hips, exposing my inner thighs, my scrap of lace panties.