Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Odd how things happened. I’d met her on a Monday at twelve forty-three p.m. She had been so damn nervous and cute. Smiling and blushing at me. It was something women often did around me. I rarely noticed it anymore. There were times I was so blind to it that one of the guys would tease me about some female and I hadn’t even realized she was checking me out or flirting. But this one hadn’t flirted. She’d been an awkward, adorable mess. Five nights later, at two fifty-seven a.m., I had laid her in this bed and not wanted to walk away. She didn’t know that, and at first, I had thought it was for the best, but I knew now that I was just giving her time to forgive me.
If there was one woman who I couldn’t charm with a simple smile, it would be her. She was the only woman I had ever abducted, locked up, starved, and choked…well, in that way. I mean, I had fucked some strippers who liked being choked while climaxing, but that wasn’t the same thing.
She was alone in the world with no one to protect her. Not that her brother had been capable of it. He might be a genius, but he was the size of a prepubescent boy.
There were bad men out there. Fucked-up sickos who would see her and want her. I knew myself how easy she was to take. I couldn’t chance that someone else would do the same. They would harm her, and I knew whatever shit had happened to me that night in the underground cellar with her brother—when he acted as if she wasn’t important and shouldn’t be cherished—would take over again. I’d never say it to anyone, but that feral, uncontrolled demon that seemed to be hidden inside me scared me. I didn’t like not being in control. I thrived on control, order, planning. That had not been planned.
If she ever got a look at the scars I’d left on Perry, then she’d likely come looking for me. Slap me, yell at me…
A smile spread across my face at the thought.
I ran the back of my finger over her cheekbone, then down to her chin. The almost, barely there cleft in it was my favorite, I had decided. While studying her at night, that tiny indention always drew me back to it. Some might think it was her only flaw to an otherwise perfect face, but they’d be idiots. This was the pinnacle of her perfection. The icing on the cake. The need to press my lips to it, trace it with my tongue, grew with each passing night that I stood here.
Her brows drew together in her sleep, and she made one of her sounds, telling me she was lost in whatever she was dreaming about. Whatever it was it had better be sweet. I might have to take on her fucking nightmares and slay them, too, if they haunted her.
I stepped back to stop myself from touching her further. She was taken care of and safe.
I needed to go, but first one more thing. I picked up her phone and tapped in the passcode, which she hadn’t changed since I’d given it back to her. I went to her messages and read through the new ones today. Granted, this was an invasion of privacy, but if I was going to take care of her, I needed to know what people she talked to. If anyone had upset her. What her plans were. If she was going on a trip, I had to be prepared so I could follow.
There was her morning text to Marley with a, Good morning! Kick ass and take names today.
I smirked. She always sent the woman something similar around seven on the weekdays and a little after eight on the weekends.
Marley would respond with a, Good morning! Then tell her what she was doing that day.
Marley had sent another one at noon, but it wasn’t any topic that concerned me since Winslet wasn’t involved.
The teachers group text was alive and kicking again. I was often tempted to pay a visit to this Anya bitch in the group. From what I’d learned via reading her texts, she was a fifth-grade teacher who thought she was in charge. She was also jealous of Winslet. That shit came through loud and clear.
I’d gone as far as looking up the staff on the school’s website to see what she looked like. Before Winslet had started working there, Anya had been the hottest teacher there.
Women and their need to be the prettiest girl in the room seemed to get the ones who were just attractive enough to stand out. Some were much worse than others. This one was the president of that club.
She was always handing out jobs and telling the others what to do as if they were her minions, then adding a smiley face or pink heart to it, as if that made it all better. Anya made sure Winslet had the worst jobs, the ones no one else wanted. The others called Winslet a godsend when she would not only agree, but do whatever the bitch had told her to do to the best of her ability. She was complimented and praised, which only made Anya more agitated. She would agree with a damn emoji of some sort, then list at least three things that could have been done better that she knew Winslet hadn’t meant to overlook.