Total pages in book: 266
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
FORTY-ONE
CHARLOTTE
I’m sitting at a stoplight with my windows cracked. My three packed bags are in the back while Muffin is in the passenger seat meowing in her carrier. She hates the car.
“I know,” I say, looking over at her yellow eyes. “It’ll be okay.” A part of me hopes she poops on Haidyn’s pillow tonight since he’s practically making me move in with him.
So much for my me day. This is not how I saw my day going. I thought I was doing something by calling Haidyn out for following me. My eyes look at the rearview mirror to see him on his bike behind me in the turning lane.
The pictures that the Lords sent me didn’t do him justice. Or maybe it’s because I know what he’s capable of now in the bedroom.
He’s got his left boot on the gear, his right one on the pavement, and his tatted hands rest on his jean-clad thighs. He’s got a white baseball hat on backward and wears black aviators.
Goddamn! My body heats as if he’s staring right at me. He probably is. Men get off on that. Being admired. He probably set this whole thing up and paid someone to follow me, knowing I’d call him, and he’d come running in and save the day. Or at the very least to force me out of my home. Either way, this has a Lord written all over it. I know how they work, and I wasn’t born yesterday.
A topless red Jeep pulls up next to me at the light, and I take a quick look. It’s occupied with four girls. The one in the passenger seat stands up and spins around, looking right at Haidyn. “You can ride us.” She immediately falls into her seat and covers her face, and her friends laugh as if it were a dare.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel, and I adjust myself. My eyes quickly go to him, and he chooses to ignore her. I have the urge to roll down my passenger window the rest of the way and call out you can’t handle him but refrain. They look like high school girls, for Christ’s sake.
Glaring at them, I hope they feel my stare through my sunglasses. I adjust my eyes ahead of me just as the light turns green. I slam on the gas and turn a little too sharp. Muffin meows as her carrier hits the interior door. “Sorry.” I reach over to adjust it upright and fix my glasses, letting out a huff.
The thought of being jealous makes me frown. I’ve never belonged to anyone before. Is this what it feels like not to want to share what’s yours? I mean, a lot of women have had him, but it’s my turn, even if I have to act like I don’t want it. Or for how little time it will last. If someone gets his attention, he’ll push me to the side, and I just can’t allow that. Not until I’ve finished my assignment.
My eyes shoot to him again in the rearview mirror as he rides behind me. His right hand on the throttle and left resting on his thigh. He looks relaxed. Much more than I am. But those who are in charge never worry.
He’s taking me to his house. I can’t decide if that’s better or worse than Carnage. At least I know others live at Carnage. At his house, it’ll just be him and me. He can do whatever he wants to me, and no one will hear me scream or know to look for me there.
It’s the perfect plan to wipe me from this world. You don’t need to worry about if the devil is real or not when you know the Lords exist.
I learned at a young age that you don’t need a steel cage to be a prisoner. Sometimes all you need is to be left alone in a room by yourself with nothing but your own thoughts. You can drive yourself crazy all on your own. Or at least I know I can.
I nose my SUV up to his gate so he can pull up behind me and press in the security code. Even though I know it. The gate opens, and I pull through and park in front of the garage. He parks next to me and walks to the back of the hatch as I pop it open.
He removes my three bags, and I grab the empty litter box and Muffin before following him into his house.
It feels…awkward. To be here knowing that I don’t know when I’ll leave. How long will he make me stay? How long will I want to be here?
I don’t have the answer to either question. But then again, a prisoner doesn’t get to choose how long they serve.