Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“I’ll take that as a no…” He tips the bottle up and takes a long gulp. Then he holds it up to my mouth, giving me a way bigger swallow than I would have taken and damn near choking me in the process.
It burns its way down my throat, blazing a fire into my belly. "What's the occasion?" I ask.
He rolls to face me. "What’s with the bondage? Did I miss something kinky? Because if I did I’m going to be pissed. Seb always does the fun stuff without me.” The frown on his face is so fake it makes me smile as he continues. “I thought you were just confined; what did you do to get tied up?"
"You know, the usual...too much attitude, fighting…he's mad at me for anything and everything."
His brow wrinkles deeply like he’s lost in thought, and then he offers me another shot, and I open my mouth, letting him pour the liquor inside. "He's been off since you were taken. He kinda, sorta, lost his shit, and I don’t think he’s returned to his normal self, probably because you haven’t returned to your normal self, either.”
I blink at him, considering his rather insightful comment. I don’t think anyone gives Lee the credit he deserves. The guy might look like he’s lost his damn mind, but maybe he’s the only one of us embracing his crazy.
"Okay, Mister-Know-It-All. How do I come back from what happened? The girl I was before I left this house…if I’m being honest, I think I left a part of her back there in that cheap motel.”
Lee's jaw tenses, and he shakes his head. "That's bullshit. Don’t give that fucker any more of you than he’s already taken. You don’t owe him anything, and you shouldn’t feel bad about what happened, either. Everyone has a choice to make, and sometimes it’s to merely survive a shitty situation or let it kill you. You did what you had to do. Nothing more, nothing less."
My chest tightens, and for the first time in days I feel seen and heard. I look away before I start to cry and swallow around the lump of words clogging my throat. My lips burn with the need to ask the question I’ve needed an answer for since they pulled me from that place.
"Is Yanov dead? Did I really kill him?"
Lee tilts my face back towards him, studies me for a moment, and then crawls up the length of my body. He doesn’t touch me otherwise, and when he’s abreast of me, he sinks back down onto the mattress next to where my arm is stretched out tight. "He’s dead, and right now, it might seem like all hope is lost and you don't know who you are, but trust me…what you do in response to a trauma is not who you are or what you are. It's your survival instinct given life. You got yourself out of there, and now, you need to figure out how to push that instinct back deep inside you."
The truth of his words slam into me, and I stare at him. How can someone who acts so hopeless still have so much hope? He brings the bottle of liquor to his lips and takes another gulp, and when he offers me another drink, I take it.
Our gazes connect, and this time he fills my mouth to the brim with alcohol. I struggle to swallow all of it and end up coughing some up, sending a small trail of it down my chin.
Something soft cuts across his face, and he swipes at the liquid on my chin, cleaning me up before sucking the liquor from his fingers.
"You did what you had to do."
"What did you have to do?" I whisper.
He stares back at me, and when I think he might open up and tell me something real, he pastes on that typical playboy grin. "Anything. Everything."
It's a deflection, of course, but I don't know him well enough to press the issue. My only hope is that he’s not going through whatever it is all alone.
We lie on the bed in silence, drinking from the bottle every few minutes. What would Sebastian do if he saw us? It’s a strangely intimate moment, but companionable rather than romantic.
“So why do you hate him this time?" Lee asks, but in the quietness of the room the words echo.
I shake my head. "I don't hate him. And to be perfectly clear, I’ve never really hated him. He just has a terrible way of pissing me off, but I…I don’t think I could ever hate him.”
"He thinks you hate him for what happened, and he’s ashamed of himself because he couldn’t do anything to stop it.”
I sigh loudly and tip my chin to the bottle to let him know I want another drink. We've emptied it almost a third of the way, and the alcohol warms me from the inside out.