Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“SHE’S A FILTHY WHORE, KILLIAN,” Sergiu throws back at him. “You’re destroying everything for a whore.”
“You will not speak of my wife,” Killian spits, stepping closer to him and looking him dead in the eye. “The thirty-odd years you’ve stood at my side pales in comparison to the past few weeks I’ve had with Chiara. She will always come before you. She encompasses everything that is good, and she is stronger than you could ever dream of being. You’re nothing in comparison, and when I look at her, I will always know that what I did here was right. You’re pitiful, Sergiu. A sorry excuse of a man. No one will miss you. No one will even remember you. There will only be gratitude for your absence.”
Killian raises the power drill, giving it a test as he pulls the lever. The sound reverberates off the walls, sending a chill down my spine, and yet I find myself eagerly watching, anticipating how this will go down.
“Cousin,” Sergiu warns. “Don’t do this. I can be better.”
Killian tunes out his desperate pleas, and not a moment later, he presses the drill against Sergiu’s ribs and pulls the lever. Sergiu roars in agony as the drill effortlessly cuts through his flesh and down to the bone. I cringe, unable to imagine the pain as the sound of crunching bone fills the air.
I hear the exact moment Killian punctures his lung, and only then does he pull back on the drill. I expect him to put the drill down and pick another tool, but he doesn’t. He just picks a new spot and goes again.
And again.
And again.
Thirty-six times.
One for every time I screamed for Ezekiel and his men to stop. One for each agonizing plea torn from the throat of a helpless woman. And now, he gets to feel just a fraction of the hell I endured.
This drill is for me, and once Killian is through with it, he places it back on the table, right where he found it. He switches it out for a machete, and as the blade catches in the light, I know that what comes next . . . This is for him.
37
CHIARA
Two hours we spend in the small torture chamber at the very bottom of the underground mansion, and when Sergiu dangles lifelessly from the suspended chains, Killian finally turns to face me. He’s covered head to toe in Sergiu’s blood, but all I see is him.
His chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, and it’s clear he’s on the edge. Yet despite everything he just did to a man he called family for so long, despite the rush of guilt and unease no doubt pulsing through his body, he’s looking at me, silently asking if I’m okay.
He’s selfless.
Incredible.
Absolutely everything I’ve ever needed.
And without question, I cross to him, throwing myself into his blood-soaked arms as the machete clatters to the ground behind me. My lips fuse to his with a deep desperation as he cradles the back of my head. Sergiu’s blood smears across my body, but all that matters is Killian. All that matters is holding him tighter than I ever have before.
His tongue plunges into my mouth, warring with mine for dominance, but where Killian is concerned, he will always have the upper hand. The hunger intensifies within me and before I know it, I’m held within his strong arms as my legs lock around his waist.
“God, I have to have you,” I groan against his lips.
“Are you sure, Angel?” he grunts, the hesitation in his tone coming in thick and hard. He doesn’t want to stop, but if I’m not ready for this, if it’s too soon, he’ll stop.
“I’m sure,” I pant. “I need you to remind me how much I love sex. Make me feel, Killian, but fuck, I need to know I’m in control. Don’t take my control.”
“You’ve always been in control,” he tells me, dropping to his knees in the pool of blood marring the pristine marble tiles. “Since the very first time. Always you.”
Killian pulls me to my knees, whipping me around so that his chest is flush against my back and when he grabs handfuls of my silk gown and tears it off my body, I shudder, unable to wait a moment longer to feel him inside of me.
I’m fucking drenched, and while a part of me is nervous about how this is going to go, that he’s going to touch me and I’m going to shut down, he’s always known exactly what I need. He’s always read my body and the signals I give off better than I know my own mind, and I trust him to do that now.
His hands roam over my blood-soaked body, setting my skin alight, and when his lips fall to my neck, working over my sensitive skin, I can’t help the desperate groan that rumbles from deep in my chest.