Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Shit. I wasn't wrong. My pulse spikes. A man runs behind me, wearing a sleeveless white tank T-shirt, baggy faded blue Adidas track pants and running shoes. I don't take the time to look too closely, but from here, I can tell he's built—muscled and covered in ink. Fuck.
He’s chasing me.
Even as I run, I notice how every passerby looks right past me, their attention fixed on the man pursuing me. Do they have no idea what he’s doing? One young woman flicks her hair over her shoulder as if trying to catch his attention, and another pair of women stop talking mid-sentence. One makes a low growl of approval, and the other covers her mouth, giggling, her eyes fixated on the paragon of masculine perfection who’s chasing… me.
My god, don’t they see how dangerous he is? Or is that what makes them blind to the peril I’m in?
I duck under a vine-covered trellis, my mind racing. At first, when I heard those footsteps, I went through the usual doubts. Maybe it's just somebody going for a run. Maybe he doesn't know who I am. But one look at that man and I knew that all of my fears were right—he knows me, and he's after me, and he’s nothing but raw, alpha male with a mission.
Fuck. I didn't bring a weapon with me. But I know how to get away if he catches me. What else can I do? One more glance over my shoulder, and this time, I realize he's close enough to meet my eyes. Close enough that his gaze locks onto mine—dark, menacing… swallowing me whole.
Raw fear lances through my chest the moment his dark eyes connect with mine. I’m too far to make out the color, but it doesn’t matter. They’re dark and bottomless, an abyss ready to pull me under. Something about his gaze reaches deep inside me, an invisible noose around my throat. It isn’t just the threat but the raw power, the absolute control that burns in his eyes, daring me to defy him. My pulse races, and heat rises to the surface of my skin. He’s not just watching me. He’s after me with a marksman’s laser focus. Nothing about that look tells me I have a chance of escape. It’s a promise that he’ll catch me—and when he does, I’ll be wholly at his mercy.
My adrenaline spikes, and I try to run faster. But it's not fast enough. He isn't even winded, and I feel as if my lungs are going to burst. It looks like he's jogging.
A busy street. I look over my shoulder again, and he's so close to me now, I can see the broad expanse of his shoulders, slicked with sweat, the corded muscles of his arms and chest. To my right, two women in workout clothes jog at a slow pace. One smiles at the other and murmurs something, and the two women look appreciatively at the man behind me. There's something about him that says raw, attractive male—preen yourselves, ladies. Do they not see the menace in his face?
Oh god… What does he have wrapped around his hand? A rope? Is that a chain?
"Stop!" he commands, his voice a deep, low growl. Another woman nearby watches him in wide-eyed wonder, awe written in her features. Yes, yes, he’s sexy, masculine perfection, but don’t they realize he’s dangerous?
I keep running. "I know who you are. You know what you did. Stop."
What?
There's nowhere else to go. Ahead of me are the red-brick walls of the Kremlin, the symbol of Russian power and authority. The sight of guards patrolling in front of me enhances my desperate need for help.
Why did I protest my brothers’ oppressive protection so much? I’d give anything for one of them right now.
In front of me I see a busy street, early morning commuters already racing to get to the office.
I decide to make a run for it when the unthinkable happens—he catches me. I scream when he grabs me by the waist from behind and pulls me against the rock-hard wall of his chest. I scream again, fighting against him, when a heavy, rough hand crashes against my mouth. A man ahead of me turns and starts our way. “Hey—” he begins, but he takes one look at my captor’s face and runs.
Oh my god.
His breath is hot on my neck as he whispers to me, “Did you really think you’d be able to get away from me?”
Within seconds, he’s ducked us both in a darkened alley near a brick building. I’m struggling, but it’s useless. He’s too strong for me, and everything I’ve learned about self-defense flies straight out of my head.
I struggle in his grip when he pins my wrist about my head, pressing me to the cold, rough brick. Our faces come dangerously close. It’s strange because he looks as if he… as if he knows me. This is no random attack. But I’ve never seen this man in my life—I would remember someone so devastatingly masculine, handsome, and terrifying.