Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Now, though, for the first time, it did seem possible. I had someone in my life. I cared about him. Maybe more than I should have so soon. And he, in turn, cared about me. Guys who didn’t, wouldn’t call themselves your boyfriend.
And, suddenly, I was looking at that kid and seeing the potential there.
A little blonde-haired kid with Alaric’s green eyes. Maybe my love of kids. But his ease with strangers.
“That’s enough of that,” I mumbled to myself as I choked down the rest of my coffee in big gulps, then moved to stand, tossing my cup, then taking the two for the guys with me back toward the elevators.
I figured I’d happened to queue up with two families about to head up to visit their loved ones, judging by the flowers, snacks, and books people were bringing up, and the way they all rushed into the elevators together.
“We can squeeze,” a man in the second car offered.
“I’ll take the next,” I said, giving him a smile.
But when the next one came, another group moved inside, leaving no room for me.
Okay then.
It was like the universe was telling me to just take the stairs. And, admittedly, I’d been kind of lazy lately, letting Alaric do the extra walks with Frida.
I could probably use the exercise of taking the stairs. It was only a couple of flights.
Decision made, I went in that direction.
I was one and a half flights up when I heard the door below me open, then click closed again.
For no good reason, other than being a woman and being raised since grade school to be terrified of being in an isolated location with a stranger, my anxiety soared, making me start to climb a little faster.
When I heard the footsteps, coming up at a dead run, that anxiety ratcheted right up to the ‘we’re out of lifeboats’ territory.
Some part of it felt silly, but I started to run myself.
But, well, I was built for long, leisurely walks, not running up stairs.
My chest felt constricted as the hot coffee spilled over my hands, and I fought the urge to just drop them and keep going.
“Nice try, bitch,” a voice said, just a second before I felt a hand grab my arm, yanking hard enough that I was sure I was going to fall backward, cracking my head against the cement steps.
But the fingers bruised into my arm, keeping me in place.
I don’t know where the instinct came from.
I whipped around, raising my arm, and taking aim, tossing the hot liquid into my attacker’s face.
Somehow, I knew even without having seen him, who it was.
The bald guy with the red and black ink.
He’d seemed big from far away, but up close, he was massive. Even two steps above him, I was only eye-to-eye with him.
“Fuck,” he roared, his hand releasing me to swipe the coffee off his face.
I didn’t stop to think.
I just turned and ran.
I maybe got up six more steps before I felt hands slam into me, sending me flying forward.
My stomach dropped out even as I threw out my arms, instinctively trying to break my fall, but I hadn’t been quick enough to factor in the upright terrain, making my palms slam down on the edge of the steps instead of the tread.
My weight fell downward, my elbows crashing onto the unyielding steps as my chest and stomach hit other edges, stealing my breath, making it impossible to scream even as one built up inside.
I lost my glasses in the fall as well, hearing them click down a few steps before landing. Likely broken.
A wicked laugh escaped my attacker as he closed the space between us even as I tried to push up, tried to crawl away.
It was no use, though.
He was already standing over me, already coming down on me, his knees on either side of my body, his hands reaching out for me, one grabbing a handful of my hair, the other closing around my throat.
“You’re gonna tell me where the pills are,” he told me.
“I don’t know where they are,” I insisted, barely recognizing my own voice when it was so choked with fear.
“We’ll see what you have to say after some… persuasion,” he said, and something in his voice had my stomach sloshing around, making me sure I was going to be sick.
Then, before my imagination could run wild with potential ways he might try to persuade me like he’d done to Kylo, the hand on my throat moved, going down to grab a hold of the waistband of my shorts.
No.
No.
This couldn’t be happening.
In a public place.
With Alaric just a flight or so away.
The sound built up inside of me, a balloon that kept expanding until the pressure had to release, and a scream started to escape me.
“Shut the fuck up!” the guy snarled, the hand full of my hair, yanking back, then slamming forward, my cheek cracking against the step, making pain scream through my skull, ten, twenty times more acute than the headache that had already been screaming behind my eyes.