Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Nightfall - Devil's Night |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Penelope Douglas |
| Language: | English |
| ISBN/ ASIN: | B089H1D5V6 |
| Book Information: | |
From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Douglas comes the thrilling, final installment in the Devil’s Night series… What happens when it's five against one and nowhere to run? EMORY They call it Blackchurch. A secluded mansion in a remote, undisclosed location where the wealthy and powerful send their misbehaving sons to cool off away from prying eyes. Will Grayson has always been an animal, though. Reckless, wild, and someone who was never bound by a single rule other than to do exactly what he wanted. There was no way his grandfather was going risk him humiliating the family again. Not that the last time was entirely his fault. He might’ve enjoyed backing me into corners in high school when no one was looking, so they wouldn’t catch on that Mr. Popular actually wanted a piece of that quiet, little nerd he loved to torture so much, but… He could also be warm. And fierce in keeping me safe. The truth is… He has a right to hate me. It’s all my fault. Everything. Devils Night. The videos. The arrests. I’m to blame for all of it. And I regret nothing. WILL I never minded being locked up. I learned a long time ago that being treated like an animal gives you permission to act like one. No one has ever looked at me any other way. Their only mistake is believing anything I do is an accident. I can sit in this house with no Internet, television, liquor, or girls, but I’ll come out of here with something far more frightening to my enemies. A plan. And a new pack of wolves. I just didn’t expect one of my enemies to come to me. I don’t know who smuggled her in or if they meant to leave her here, but I can smell her hiding in the house. She’s here. And as the security detail leaves the supplies, the gates close, and the door to my gilded cage opens, giving me free reign of the house and grounds for another unsupervised month, I remember with a smile… Blackchurch houses five prisoners. I’m only one of her problems. | |
| Books by Author: | Penelope Douglas |
“You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end, she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than the other girls.”
-J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan
For Z. King
Emory
Present
It was faint, but I heard it.
Water. Like I was behind a waterfall, deep inside a cave.
What the hell was that?
I blinked my eyes, stirring from the heaviest sleep I think I’ve ever had. Jesus, I was tired.
My head rested on the softest pillow, and I moved my arm, brushing my hand over a cool, splendidly plush white comforter.
I patted my face, feeling my glasses missing. I rolled my eyes around me, confusion sinking in as I took in myself burrowed comfortably in the middle of a huge bed, my body taking up about as much room as a single M&M inside its package.
This wasn’t my bed.
I looked around the lavish bedroom—white, gold, crystal, and mirrors everywhere, palatial in its opulence like I’d never seen in person—and my breathing turned shallow as instant fear took over.
This wasn’t my room. Was I dreaming?
I pushed myself up, my head aching and every muscle tight like I’d been sleeping for a damn week.
I dropped my eyes, spotting my glasses folded and sitting on the bedside table. I grabbed them and slipped them on, taking inventory of my body first. I laid on top of the bed, still fully clothed in my black, skinny pants and a pullover white blouse that I’d dressed in this morning.
If it was still today, anyway.
My shoes were gone, but on instinct I peered over the side of the bed and saw my sneakers sitting there, perfectly positioned on a fancy white rug with gold filigree.
My pores cooled with sweat as I looked around the unfamiliar bedroom, and my brain wracked with what the hell was going on. Where was I?
I slid off the bed, my legs shaky as I stood up.
I’d been at the firm. Working on the blueprints for the DeWitt Museum. Byron and Elise had ordered take-out for lunch for themselves, I went out instead, and—I pinched the bridge of my nose, my head pounding—and then…
Ugh, I don’t know. What happened?
Spotting a door ahead of me, I didn’t even bother to look around the rest of the room or see where the two other doors led. I grabbed my shoes and stumbled for what I guessed was the way out, and stepped into a hallway, the cool marble floor soothing on my bare feet.
I still went down the list in my head, though.
I didn’t drink.
I didn’t see anyone unusual.
I didn’t get any weird phone calls or packages. I didn’t...
I tried to swallow a few times, finally generating enough saliva. God, I was thirsty. And—a pang hit my stomach—hungry too. How long had I been out?
“Hello?” I called quietly but immediately regretted it.
Unless I’d had an aneurysm or developed selective amnesia, then I wasn’t here willingly.
But if I’d been taken or imprisoned, wouldn’t my door have been locked?
Bile stung my throat, every horror movie I’d ever seen playing various scenarios in my head.
Please, no cannibals. Please, no cannibals.
“Hi,” a small, hesitant voice said.
I followed the sound, peering across the hallway, over the banister, to the other side of the upstairs where another hall of rooms sat. A figure lurked in a dark corridor, slowly stepping onto the landing.
“Who is that?” I inched forward just a hair, blinking against the sleep still weighing on my eyes.
It was a man, I thought. Button-down shirt, short hair.
“Taylor,” he finally said. “Taylor Dinescu.”
Dinescu? As in, Dinescu Petroleum Corporation? It couldn’t be the same family.
I licked my lips, swallowing again. I really needed to find some water.
“Why am I not locked in my room?” he asked me, coming out of the darkness and stepping into the faint moonlight streaming through the windows.
He cocked his head, his hair disheveled and the tail of his wrinkled Oxford hanging out. “We’re not allowed around the women,” he said, sounding just as confused as me. “Are you with the doctor? Is he here?”
What the hell was he talking about? ‘We’re not allowed around the women.’ Did I hear that right? He sounded out of it, like he was on drugs or had been locked in a cell for the past fifteen years.
“Where am I?” I demanded.
He took a step in my direction, and I took one backward, scrambling to get my shoes on as I hopped on one foot.
He closed his eyes, inhaling as he inched closer. “Jesus,” he panted. “It’s been a while since I smelled that.”
Smelled what?
His eyes opened, and I noticed they were a piercing blue, even more striking under his mahogany hair.
“Who are you? Where am I?” I barked.
I didn’t recognize this guy.
He slithered closer, almost animalistic in his movements with a predatory look on his face now that made the hairs on my arms stand up.