Recovery Road – Torpedo Ink Read Online Christine Feehan

Categories Genre: Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
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“Get ready for bed. There’s not much to it. You don’t need a lot in the way of clothes. Tomorrow, first thing, I promise, we’ll get clothes, food, see your friends, and take care of any loose ends you have with your clients. That will leave you free to hunt.”

Her chin jerked up and her eyes met his. The tip of her tongue wet her lips, making his cock ache. “You really meant what you said, didn’t you? About taking me with you when you hunted them.”

“I always mean what I say.” He turned away from her. The way his master bath was built, the old-fashioned claw-foot tub sat on a field of charcoal and gray river rock that swirled out of the bathroom right into the master bedroom, making the two rooms one. The rooms of his house had an open floor plan, so they flowed one to the next, and he particularly liked that everything in it was made of natural wood or stone.

He gave her a little privacy by leaving to use the second bathroom on the main floor. He was wet from being in the woods and needed to peel off the soaked clothing and take a hot shower. He would have preferred to use the one in the master bathroom, with the jets that sprayed him from every direction. The shower stall was much larger and made of the same charcoal and gray river rock.

This one was made of the same rock, but just a bit smaller, without the jets coming from all directions. Still, the water was hot and poured over him, feeling good on his surprisingly sore muscles. He hadn’t realized he was as tired as he was.

Ambrielle was curled up under the covers, turned toward the long bank of windows, watching the rain come down. She sent him a little smile as he flipped back the covers, wrapped his body around hers and turned off the only light in the room. Master curled one arm around her waist and laid his head close to hers.

“We got to talk about this, princess. It’s important or I’d let it go.”

“I know. Can we make a bargain? We talk about my worst nightmare, and you give me yours.”

He closed his eyes and rubbed his face against the nape of her neck and all that silky hair. “I’ve got too many worst nightmares, babe. One at a time or none at all might be best just so you can sleep at night.”

She turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder. “Really, Kir? You have too many really bad things that happened to you?”

His fingers bit into her waist. No man wanted to talk to his woman about certain things that happened to him, but he wasn’t going to lie to her. “You aren’t putting it together, baby,” he said as gently as possible. “I was taken to a place run by pedophiles. Sorbacov thought it would be a great experiment to see how many skills a child could develop if he could survive in prison with his so-called instructors being the inmates. What do you think happened to me on a daily basis? Usually more than once a day.”

Ambrielle froze as if she’d stopped breathing. Her body tensed, then she hunched into herself as if she’d taken a body blow. One hand slid over his, the one he had over her waist. Her nails bit into his wrist.

“You told me you were taken there when you were just a little boy. I thought maybe younger than five. Were you younger than five?”

Was she crying? He didn’t want her to cry for him. That damn door in his mind was creaking open. He could hear it, that squeaking of the rusty pins telling him the memories were getting too close for comfort. He couldn’t have her crying, or there could be a river flooding his home.

“Yeah, princess, when the bastard came for me, I was younger than five.” He waited a heartbeat. Yeah. She was crying. Her fingers bit down on his wrist in protest. “You sure you want to talk about this?”

“I don’t understand human beings, Master. I really don’t. The things they do to children. Or to one another.” She rubbed her face against the pillow. “And you go back into prison because you have these skills you developed as a child under those horrific circumstances.” She whispered to herself, but he heard. “You say you aren’t a good man, Master, but you are. No one would do the things you do, even to help out your club.”

He groaned, his lips on the nape of her neck again. He scraped his teeth along her sensitive skin and then kissed the spot. “Don’t. I could barely keep from hitting Reese. I don’t do well talking to people, Ambrielle. I think they’re all idiots. I have enough patience for three seconds of their whining and then I’m out. Ink is the one with endless tolerance. He goes into difficult situations and talks people off the ledge when I want to shove them off it.”


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