Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Rodion.
My lungs loosen enough to pull in air as relief floods me, shoving the past into the dark. He doesn’t say my name, but he doesn’t have to.
“I told you,” he murmurs, footsteps circling me. “Careful what you wish for, little queen.”
Relief floods me as heat races down my spine, battling the cold bite of the night air against my skin. He’s doing this—exactly as I’d described it in the video I never thought he’d see. The timing, the details, even the pull of the ropes.
“You’re sick,” I say, though my voice is husky and affected, betraying me.
“And you like it.” His words are a low growl, too close to my ear. I jerk instinctively, but he steps back, giving me space I don’t want.
“Say stop if you want to.” His tone turns softer, a question disguised as a dare. “I’ll hear it, Ember. I’ll stop everything.”
I hate how much I don’t want to say it. Hate how much I trust him, even now, bound and blindfolded and god knows where.
When I stay silent, his hand touches my arm, skimming down to my wrist where the rope holds me. “Good girl,” he says, his voice thick with approval. “You’re not afraid of me.”
“I should be,” I snap, but my voice trembles for an entirely different reason.
His fingers trail away, and the sound of his boots shifts, crunching leaves as he moves behind me. “Oh, I don’t know. You might be safer with me than anyone else.”
There’s something dark in his voice, and I know it isn’t a lie. If he knew what really made me scared… if I told him about Shawn.
I can’t tell him.
Rodion pulls me back to the moment, brushing my hair away from my neck. His lips barely graze my skin, and I shiver. “I’ve thought about this,” he admits, his hands tightening the ropes slightly as if to ground me. “Your little video—so proud of your words but so clueless who was watching.”
“You were stalking me,” I accuse, though the words sound faint, almost playful.
“You made it easy,” he counters, and then his hand grips my hip, holding me firmly in place.
When he finally loosens the ropes, I let out a small gasp, though I’m not ready for the rough silk sliding from my eyes. I blink as the moon filters through the trees, and in front of me, he stands—bigger, broader than life. His face is unreadable, the sharp angles softened only by the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.
He takes my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “I thought about tying you to a tree,” he says casually. “But I have a better idea. For now.”
I swallow; the reality of him is so much more than the fantasy. He takes my hand and gently but firmly pulls me along a narrow path. It’s eerily quiet, the forest swallowing every sound but the rustle of our clothes and the occasional snap of a twig.
When the cabin looms into view, my knees nearly give out. It’s old, the wood weathered but sturdy, the kind of place you’d find in a thriller or a dream.
Inside, the air is heavy with the scent of pine and cured wood. Firewood crackles faintly in the corner, though the flames are low, casting golden light across the room. A large but rustic bed sits in the center, draped in thick quilts.
Rodion’s hand slides up my arm, his touch firm but never harsh. “Tell me to stop,” he says again, his voice softer now. “Say it, Ember. Tell me to take you home.”
I shake my head, my throat too tight to speak.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. Then he pushes me back onto the bed, his weight pinning me down just enough to remind me I’m exactly where I want to be. His hands skim my wrists, binding them to the headboard with practiced ease.
Oh god.
When he leans down, his breath is warm against my ear. “Now, let’s see how much you like this fantasy of yours.”
I try to swallow but find it hard. I’m excited and nervous and so fucking turned on—I’d probably come if he dared to kiss me.
The ropes rub against my wrists, not enough to hurt but enough to remind me they’re there—tight and unyielding, just like him. Firelight dances on the cabin walls, the only light in the room, and it paints Rodion in hues of molten gold and shadow. He prowls at the edge of the bed, his gaze devouring me, and I shiver despite the warmth of the room.
“Do you know what you’ve done, little queen? I’ve seen how many times you’ve packed up and moved. You’re good at covering it up with the camera, pointing it at others instead of facing it yourself. But I see everything. The way you love to keep people at an arm’s distance so you don’t have to get too close…” His voice is a low growl, roughened with just enough heat and danger to make my stomach flip. “I want to hold you still so you stop running for a second. You don’t trust me? Smart. I’m not here to promise you safety. I’m here to show you what those fantasies really feel like.”