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)
It won’t happen again. Elyse is mine, and I protect what is mine. She lets out a frustrated growl as I jog up the porch, not even trying to be careful of her bouncing body.
The ballroom is dark, but I know my way around this mausoleum like the back of my hand. I climb the stairs quickly, her small body bouncing with each step. When I reach the first spare bedroom, I realize it’s right across the hall from my own.
Fuck me. This is such a fucking bad idea, but I was already on my way here before I considered my actions. I want to keep her close, but not next-door-close. Not where I can so easily access her.
Shit. What do I do?
I’m already grappling for control, and now I’m making the choice to keep her across the hall, within easy reach. I’m losing my fucking mind. Might as well toss my control out the fucking window along with it. Is there any other option? No. I have to keep her close if I want to keep her safe.
Knowing I’m going to hell anyway, I shove the door open, cross the room, and toss the bundle of her and the sleeping bag onto the bed. She scrambles to sit up and kick the bag off her feet. I wait, watching like the predator I am.
If she even thinks about running, her ass will wear my handprints.
The length of her bare legs catches my attention, and I drag my gaze down and then back up to the snow-white patch of lace that’s merely a tease, then up and over the very worn gray T-shirt she's wearing. A T-shirt covered in both dust and dirt.
Have I been so oblivious to her needs? Or have I just been suppressing my desires so deeply that I’m just now noticing all these little details? It doesn’t matter.
I squeeze my hands into fists and twist on my heels, stalking back to my room. I can’t leave her to sleep in that shirt. Not when she has a clean bed and a safe room. I find the nearest clean shirt and return to her with it in hand. Then I shove the material at her face, but instead of taking it, she bats it away like an annoying fly.
“Stop. I don't want your clothes.”
“You stop. You're the one who’s being stubborn.”
She recoils like she’s stunned I would make such an accusation. “Stubborn? Because I don’t want to wear your clothes?”
“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”
“I’ve always thought something was wrong with you, but now I’m certain of it.”
She has a habit of making me smile, and that shit needs to stop, but how can I not smile when verbally sparring with her is the highlight of my day?
“You act like that’s new. There’s a lot wrong with me, Prey. Maybe you should put more effort into doing what I tell you to do instead of trying to figure me out.”
“Maybe you should stop being so bossy, and I will.”
I suppress a smile. “We aren’t negotiating, Ely.”
“I didn’t say we were.” She pauses, looking down at the shirt I gave her. “Why do you keep trying to dress me?”
I ignore her question and reach for the neck of her T-shirt, deciding that if she won’t change her clothes then I’ll do it for her. My intention is to jerk it off her so she can see the dirt and dust, but I miscalculate how threadbare it is, and it rips under my grip.
“I could ask you the same ridiculous questions. Like why do you keep fighting me on every single little thing? If I ask you to breathe, will you fight me on that, too?”
She lets out a small gasp and clutches the ripped shirt to her chest while glaring at me. “Yes, in fact, I will.” A tiny growl escapes her, and the sound is sexy as fuck. “Sometimes I wonder if a kind bone exists in your body.”
“Kindness isn’t going to make you listen any better. You live to piss me off. It doesn’t matter what I say to you; you’re predisposed to defy me.”
She stares, refusing to back down. “And you live to make my life hell, so we’re even.”
The knot of tension between us tightens. I should’ve known the night I saved her life that she would be my undoing. “We aren’t anywhere close to being even, Little Prey.”
“Oh yes, how could I ever forget my debt to you?” She rolls her eyes, then unfolds the T-shirt. “Could I have some privacy, please?”
I cross my arms over my chest and sink onto the side of the bed. “Could you? Certainly. Will I give it to you? Not today.”
She huffs and tugs the ripped shirt off her head, revealing a lacy white bra. It suits her. White. Innocent. Pure. But while she’s mostly an angel, I know a part of her clings to darkness. Light cannot exist without darkness, or darkness without light. We all carry fragments of the darkness that threaten to snuff out our light. She drags my football shirt over her head, her slim body disappearing beneath the material.