Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“I don’t think there is anyone in there, cap,” the voice said.
I tried to call out again, but it was useless.
I had to make some noise. They couldn’t leave. I had to tell them I was here. If they left, I would die, cold and alone.
All because of one stupid limo driver who thought he could get away with drinking on the job in the middle of a snowstorm.
I wrapped my fingers around the cold slippery flask, now covered in half-frozen, thick blood, and hit it on the roof of the car.
Nausea rolled in my stomach as I struggled to keep a grip on the frigid metal, but I struck it again and again.
“Wait, I think I hear something,” one of the voices said, and I nearly cried in relief.
I hit harder, faster. I was so close to being saved, so close.
“I don’t know,” another voice said. “I don’t hear anything.”
With as much strength as I had, my entire body still and nearly frozen, I hit the flask on the roof harder and faster again.
I silently begged them to save me before I froze to death in this icy tomb with my parents.
And just as always, I found myself longing to return to the safety and warmth of the devil’s arms.
CHAPTER 12
STELLA
My heart raced as I tossed in my bed.
Despite the heat in the room, I was still so cold.
I had turned the furnace up before going to sleep, as well as the gas fireplace in the room.
For anyone else, this room was probably stifling, but I was still cold.
The banging of the flask still sounded in my ears.
My ribs ached where they had been broken, even though they were long healed now. The doctor called it psychological phantom pain.
I knew what it meant.
It meant my body had healed, but the scars on my mind could be permanent.
There was no way to know yet. I did know they hadn’t even healed over.
The same nightmare played over and over in my head every single night. Half of it was memories from the accident. Half were gaps that my own brain filled in from a mix of horror and guilt. My throat was raw, and I didn’t know if I had been yelling in my sleep again or not.
All I knew was that everything was so cold and aching every single time I woke up from that nightmare.
Part of me was scared that one night I would fall into a deep sleep, that same nightmare replaying over and over in my head, and I would never wake up.
I was terrified that I would be trapped in that frozen hell forever.
That I would never again feel anything but a cold, dull ache.
Then Lucian Manwarring had touched me.
And the memory of his warmth, his strength, his power, and my own strange longing to return to his arms, washed over me.
Even as the nightmare still tried to keep its hold with the insistent, terrible clang of that damn flask against the car metal.
My eyelids fluttered open.
The banging didn’t stop.
It took me a moment to realize it wasn’t still in my head.
It was coming from the front door of the suite. I grabbed the plush hotel terry cloth robe from the chair by the bed and wrapped it around me to answer the door.
It was barely eight in the morning. I had no idea who would be at my door.
No one even knew I was there.
I had told the staff that I was going on a vacation and that they would be paid to keep the house up. My friends all thought I was at my parents’ estate.
I didn’t want anyone to know that I was too weak to face my demons.
Or the devil, Lucian Manwarring. Not yet.
After the accident, I hated being at home.
I’d tried, but it was too painful.
Every moment, I expected to see my mother around the corner on her phone, laughing and gossiping to one of her friends, or my father barking orders to a business partner.
The home that was once filled with so many happy memories was just a painful reminder of what I didn’t have anymore: a family.
The banging got more insistent until I ripped open the door, half expecting Lucian to be there with an incredulous look on his face.
Ready to tell me what other freedom of mine he was taking the liberty of stealing.
Perhaps he had commandeered my jewelry. Maybe he’d decided that the degree I’d pursued was not worth my efforts, so he went ahead and shredded it. Maybe he had taken it upon himself to decide that I had too many shoes, and he was going to sell them all.
Or maybe he just wanted to prove he had more power, so he was here to take my cell phone and ground me like a child for a month because he could. Because I came to my senses and ran before he had the chance to push me further than I was comfortable with, he was going to punish me.