Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Annika stumbles backward and winces, her face scrunching as she lifts her foot off the ground.
I pause, and all the anger I’d planned to unleash on her dissipates into a much more prominent feeling.
The need to protect her.
The fuck is wrong with me? She shot me and all I want is to remove anything that hurts her. All I want is to keep her safe from the world.
But not from myself.
I inspect her foot that she’s resting on her calf. “What is it?”
“N-nothing.”
“Annika, don’t fuck with me. What’s wrong?”
She stares up at me with those round eyes, so big and tormented. “I think I cut my foot earlier, but it’s not a big deal—”
Her words end in a yelp when I carry her bridal style to the bed. The moment I drop her on the mattress, she stands up again.
“I-I’m really fine.”
“Sit the fuck down.”
At my order, she flops down on the bed and that’s when I go to the bathroom and retrieve a first aid kit.
A strange feeling grips hold of me when I find her in the exact position I left her in, her eyes focused on the bathroom door.
I kneel in front of her and place her leg on my thigh to inspect the sole of her feet. Sure enough, there are some bloodied cuts, and while they’re not too deep, they would definitely be a hindrance.
Due to her ballet passion, Annika never, and I mean never, allows her feet to get hurt. She told me I could flog and spank her anywhere, but her feet were off-limits. The closest I could get to them was binding her ankles.
So to see her this fucking careless about them makes me murderous.
I retrieve a bottle of oxygenated water and clean the cuts on both her feet and then start to apply ointment.
“Next time you hurt yourself, I swear to fucking God…” I trail off at the strained sound of my voice.
The more I touch her, the faster pain and fucking rage consume me.
I feel the tremor in her body before her soft voice fills my ears. “I didn’t mean to. I only wanted to…”
“Escape,” I finish for her. “That won’t be fucking possible.”
“My dad will come for me,” she murmurs, but it doesn’t sound like a threat, more like she’s informing me of facts. “He’ll find me and you, and when he does, this will end badly.”
“This island isn’t on the map, and I left all your belongings back in the States. He won’t be able to locate you.”
Silence stakes claim as I continue lathering the cream on her cuts without looking at her.
After a moment, her gentle voice reaches me again, all elegant and melodic and made for me. “What do you plan to do with me, Creighton?”
“Keep you.”
“And then?”
“There’s no then.”
“How long do you intend to keep me?”
“There’s no time limit.”
“So we’ll live on the island for the rest of our lives?”
“If need be.”
“You can’t do that.” Her voice becomes panicky. “We both have lives, families, friends, a future.”
“A future where you’ll be married to someone else will not fucking exist, Annika.” I shut the first aid kit closed, about to stand up and cool myself before I act on the dark thoughts rushing wildly in my head.
A gentle palm falls on my chest, stroking the healed bullet wound, touching, trembling, exploring. “Does it hurt?”
“It does.” I grab her hand and slam it on the thundering organ next to it. “Right fucking here.”
“I’m so sorry.” She lowers herself so she’s on her knees facing me and I’m greeted by the pained tears that roll down her cheeks. “I know nothing I say would undo what happened and no excuses would justify it, but I want you to know that I hated myself every day since then. I couldn’t sleep, eat, or breathe properly and was only able to survive thus far after knowing you were safe. I’m so, so sorry, Creighton.”
“Apologizing isn’t enough.” I dig my fingers into the back of her hand. “You have to make it up to me for the rest of your life.”
She breathes heavily, the sound echoing in the air. “If I do, will you let go of your grudge?”
“Don’t worry yourself about that.”
Her eyes shine with that irritating defiance. “You can take your rage out on me all you like, but I won’t allow you to use me to bring my family down.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
She starts to stand up, but I shove her back against the mattress.
And before she can move, I fling the side table’s drawer open and retrieve my ropes and special toys I prepared specifically for her.
Annika’s eyes widen and she struggles against me, but it’s futile. “I did nothing to be punished for.”
“Let’s count what you did wrong. Aside from shooting me, you left.” I strap her hands to the bedpost. “You up and disappeared, leaving me for dead.”