Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“Get dressed while I change; then we are leaving.” His voice is calmer now, but it’s the sort of calm I don’t trust. Not while he still has a manic glint in his eyes and the sharp knife in his grip.
I drag my attention back to the dress, studying the slinky fabric. There's no way in hell I can wear this. Everyone will see my scars, the ones my father gave me. Not to mention the still red and tender bullet wound in my shoulder, and...other ones I can’t think about right now.
Never mind that I haven't been able to shave my legs in forever, as it would seem that messing up the tendons in your shoulder limits some fine motor functions. I risk glancing back at Sebastian. Something tells me if I try to explain all that to him he's going to blow up like an atomic bomb.
I don't realize how long I’ve stood there, frozen, the dress clenched tight in my fist as I try to rack my brain for a solution until Sebastian’s gruff, angry voice pulls me out of the darkness.
“Ely, I'm not fucking around,” he warns, his voice menacing now, all hints of his barely restrained calm gone.
When I don't move, he stalks closer, kicking the remains of my pants away from his feet. His gaze sweeps the length of my body, and he gives my soft white cotton underwear a disdainful look. At least he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he rips off the rest of my shirt. When he makes a swipe at my bra with the knife, I shake my head and take a small step back. I cradle my breasts against my arm, the dress squished between.
“Please…” I try to rationalize with him.
“Don’t beg, Ely. You should know by now that it doesn’t have the effect you want it to have on me.”
Cold fear douses my insides, and while I know he’s serious, I need him to understand. To see that it’s not that I want to disobey him, but more that I’m uncomfortable. “Please, Sebastian. It's not that I don't want to get dressed. I just… I can't wear this.”
“You can, and you will wear the dress,” Sebastian orders, taking a step closer.
I try to shield more of my nudity and let whatever shame I’m feeling go. “I haven't been able to shave my legs in a long time, not with the bullet wound, and my fingers don't work as well as they used to. Shaving hurts, and it's messy. I just can't, and while I don’t expect you to understand, I won’t wear such a pretty, short dress with hairy-ass legs.”
Something dark enters his eyes, and he drops his gaze down to all the bare skin I can't cover with my hands. The tight lines of his shoulders drop fractionally.
“Have you tried shaving with something bigger than just a razor? Those things are tiny and finicky.”
I blink at him. What the hell else would I shave with? He rolls his eyes and turns his knife in a blindingly fast swish so the hilt faces me. “Try this.”
“Did you not hear me? I just told you I don't have the fine motor skills needed to control the razor. If I try to shave with that thing, I’ll end up bleeding to death. Also, are you really sure you want to give me something sharp right now? I could sink it into your gut and then just go home.”
He shrugs one shoulder, and somehow, on him it looks graceful. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Little Prey.”
A good time? I barely have time to process what he said when the rough touch of his hands circle my waist. In a flash, he lifts me like I weigh nothing and carries me into the brightly lit bathroom. I give the room a quick scan, noting how big and luxurious it looks with gold accents and marble everywhere. A small leather toiletry bag sits on the sink, a white shopping bag beside it and a hand towel next to that.
I let out a squeak when he places me down on the counter, the cold stone pressing against my bare thighs.
What is happening right now?
Heat radiates off him, and I shiver involuntarily. He shouldn’t be this close, and he especially shouldn’t have his hands on me.
His long fingers drag down my sides until he reaches my thighs, where he clutches them right above my knees. I’m lost in a daydream for half of a second, and then it becomes a nightmare when he tries to pry them apart.
Out of pure instinct, I move to snap them tight shut again but then catch his narrowing gaze and clenched jaw out of the corner of my eye.
“Do you really want to fight me on this? I’m stronger, faster, and more than capable of forcing you to do what I want.”