Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
He didn’t look away from Shylah. From her face. Her eyes. There was no judgment, no condemnation, and he knew there never would be. She waited, listening. Hearing him telling her more than the words he was saying. He was giving her complete trust. Telling her what he’d never told another human being.
“I woke when they attacked me, one holding my hair in a death grip, dragging at my clothes. The other punched me in the ribs twice, saying I was their bitch. He had a knife in one hand and told me he was going to cut me into little pieces if I didn’t cooperate.”
Draden rubbed at the scruff on his face. “It’s like somewhere inside me is this dark being that just rose up and fought back. I don’t remember thinking, just doing. They were older, bigger, stronger and probably knew how to fight, but adrenaline kicked in and I didn’t care if they killed me. Rage took hold. Icy. Dark. That was how I felt inside. I remember grabbing the knife hand and just rolling, throwing myself as hard as I could to one side, rolling into him, taking that blade with me. The knife went right into him under my body weight as well as his buddy’s. It was that fast, that hard.”
Shylah’s eyes darkened but other than that, she didn’t move or change expression.
“The one on my back, holding my hair, nearly ripped most of it out, but I just slammed my head back into him as hard as I could. I was lucky and hit him directly in his face, smashing his nose. He fell back, and I was on him, the knife in my hand. I don’t even remember taking hold of it. It was just there. I stabbed him in the throat and ran. It was over in seconds and both were down, dying, I think. I ran in the dark for blocks and then realized I had the bloody knife in my hand.”
There was a small silence and he wiped beads of sweat from his forehead, surprised to find them there. Just talking about the incident that colored the rest of his life sent shards of glass digging at his stomach, tying him up in knots.
“I thought about that for years, Shylah. Was I some kind of psychopath to be able to do that so efficiently? I had to ask myself that question. What kid could turn the tables on two fully grown men? I’d never taken a self-defense class in my life. I’d never been in a fistfight. I certainly didn’t know how to use a knife. So how had I managed to escape them, and why were they dead and I wasn’t?”
“Do you really believe you’re a psychopath because you defended yourself, Draden?” Again, there was no judgment in her voice, in her expression or her eyes.
“Not because I defended myself. That was instinctual, the fight-or-flight response. I have the fight reaction instilled in me very strongly. I accept that. But I shouldn’t have won that fight, sweetheart.”
“You had the advantage, Draden. You didn’t think so, but you did. They regarded you as easy prey. There were two of them. Bigger. Stronger. They had a weapon, and both attacked simultaneously. They’d clearly done it before. The last thing they thought would happen was for you to fight back. The moment you did, it was completely outside their expertise. You were fast and made all the right moves, which was your self-preservation instinct kicking in. I would have done the same. Some of us are fighters. We just do whatever it takes to stay alive.”
She shrugged her shoulders and stood up, walking across the white carpet to him. He opened his thighs, so she could stand between them. Shylah swept back her hair and leaned down to kiss him. The moment she did, she swept him from those hated, even feared memories, into another place. She did it so easily, her mouth moving against his. Lips soft and inviting. Tongue stroking caresses along his.
Draden stood up, his arms sliding around her, lifting her. She wrapped her long legs around him, aligning their bodies. Her soft skin seemed to melt right into his, until he caught fire. Until that conflagration spun out of control. He kept kissing her as he took her to the bed. Her legs kept him wrapped up tight. Her arms were there, holding him tightly as her mouth gave him everything he needed. Love poured into him and he felt it with every stroke of his body—in every answering move of hers. Her hips rose to meet his as he surged into her again and again. As his mouth took hers until neither of them could breathe. His woman. Perfection. And they still had several hours to go.