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)
A brand for a brand.
What the fuck? She’s already had an initiation? This doesn’t make sense. Women don’t get initiated unless they are to be wed to a Lord and I’ve never heard of one having an assignment.
“What happened to her?”
“They made me kill her,” she whispers.
None of this makes sense. I bet it wasn’t about Charlotte being initiated but more about the woman she was supposed to kill. No one else wanted that responsibility, so they put it on Charlotte. But that doesn’t answer the branding question. Why was the woman branded in the first place? I mean, I know Lords who brand their chosens and Ladies. It’s all about claiming their property. But why did they want hers removed or Charlotte to brand herself?
Fuck, I’m getting a headache. This is giving me more questions than answers. “How did you kill her?”
“I shot her,” she says softly. “And every time I close my eyes, I see her.” She blinks, her heavy eyes looking up at mine through her fake lashes.
“You did what you had to do,” I tell her, seeing the uncertainty in her eyes. Her decision haunts her.
She swallows and whispers, “Is that what you tell yourself?”
“I don’t have any regrets,” I say truthfully. It’s kill or be killed in our world.
Releasing Charlotte’s hair, I move to stand in front of the chair. “The bruises…when you showed up at my house with bruises, you told me they were from rough sex. Who gave them to you?”
“I was arrested. He was rough…”
“What the fuck were you arrested for?” I demand.
She tries to shrug. “Not sure. He never said.”
I’ll have someone look into that for me. I reach out and cup her face. “Am I the only guy who’s ever fucked you?”
Her pretty eyes look up at me. They’re heavier than they were. I’m losing her. “Yes,” she answers in her soft voice.
Goddamn.
Lowering my face down to hers, I cup her cheeks with both of my hands, and she licks her plump lips before I press mine to them. She moans into my mouth, her hips rising off the chair, and I lower my hand to her chest, softly playing with her nipple. Teasing her, I love the way her body rocks back and forth in the chair, needing to be fucked.
I pull away as I ask, “Why weren’t you a chosen?” If she’s a virgin, then she’s never belonged to a Lord before.
She blinks, her long, fake dark lashes fanning her cheeks. “I’m having…to save myself for my Lord.”
I tilt my head to the side in thought. “Who is your Lord?”
“Don’t know. Don’t have one.” She slurs.
Fuck! I’m getting nowhere and she’s not making any goddamn sense. Kneeling in front of her chair, I place my hands on her smooth thighs, and she tries to part them more as if she wants me to bury my face between them. She groans, and her dark blue eyes meet mine, silently begging me to use her.
“So this isn’t about revenge?” I have to ask.
Her dark brows furrow, and she gently shakes her head. “Who would I want revenge on?”
She doesn’t know.
“Haidyn—” She licks her lips, her thighs clenching under my hands as she tries to pull them farther apart. “Please…”
I stand to my full height and run my hand through her soft curls but don’t say anything. I know what she wants, but she’s not getting it tonight. Not like this.
Her head falls forward.
Reaching out, I gently cup her chin and push her head back to see her eyes closed. I wait a few seconds to see if they open. When they don’t, I remove my knife from my pocket and cut through the tape that secures her wrists to the chair and then her legs. Picking her up, I carry her to her bedroom and place her in bed.
She’ll be fine to sleep it off. She’ll probably be out most of the day after the night she had last night plus the drugs.
Pulling the covers up to her neck, I leave her room when I catch sight of her desk over by the window. I remember seeing it on the cameras after she called and woke up from her stay in the basement.
I pick up the laptop, tuck it under my arm, then lock up her house, leaving her to rest. Our little truth session is over for now. But it doesn’t mean we won’t have another one.
I’m sitting on my couch sipping on a glass of scotch when I hear a bike rev its engine. I get up and make my way to the garage. Opening the garage door, I lean up against the wall crossing my arms as Sin pulls my blacked-out R1 inside. Getting off the bike, he tosses me the keys.
“Thanks,” I tell him. “Yours are in your car.”