Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“Will I ever see my family again?” Her question has me stalling, the door ajar, and my one foot over the threshold. When I glance over my shoulder, I see her, the girl under the strong façade she tries to portray, and it only makes me want her more.
“We’ll talk in the morning.” I shut the door behind me, knowing that if I were to have stayed in that room for a moment longer, I would’ve taken everything that belongs to me. Twisting the golden key in the lock, I leave her to mull over her situation.
I have things to do.
A brother to kill.
And a priest to call.
13
Scarlett
I spent the night tossing and turning. Dreams of a big bad wolf invaded my mind and took hold of me. All I saw behind my lids was a large predator following me through the woods as I tried to get home.
At one point, I actually believed I was out in the cold with the enormous gray wolf following me, but when my eyes snap open in shock, I shiver but find myself alone in the immaculate room that Lycan confirmed is mine.
The rising sun is slowly brightening the deep purple sky beyond the curtains, which in turn illuminates my bedroom. I have to be honest; the bed was comfortable even though I didn’t get a lot of sleep. I’m sure I would have had a great evening if I wasn’t being kept captive in a mansion owned by the man who’s convinced he’s going to marry me.
My mind still cannot fathom how my father could have signed over my life to someone like this. Did he know Lycan long before he agreed to this preposterous contract? I wonder how long the two men who clearly want to rule my life knew each other before Lycan requested this bullshit. I’m not marrying him. And he doesn’t realize how much I’ll fight back, because if he thinks otherwise, he is misleading himself.
I need to talk to my dad or even my mother because the idea of being with a man like Lycan Shaw forever doesn’t leave me all warm and fuzzy. But then the memory of what he did to me last night assaults every sense. My skin prickles as the phantom touch of him teases me. I can’t stop the ache that slowly tightens in my stomach when I recall how his fingers brought me pleasure, even as anger rolled through me.
He’s an expert.
He clearly knows my body and can manipulate me like a musical instrument, but that’s only an indication of how many women he’s been with, and that’s not a man I want to spend my life with. When I do decide to give myself to someone, to take their name, it will be because I’m the only one they’re with. I don’t share, and I certainly will not be a wife forced to bear children while he goes fucking everything in a skirt.
When the bedroom door opens again, I’m met with a gentle smile from an older woman I haven’t seen before. She moves into the room and sets down a tray that has a plate covered with a silver dome, along with coffee, which I can smell from my bed, and a glass of orange juice.
“Mr. Shaw will be with you soon,” she says before heading out, leaving me alone to ponder just what Mr. Shaw wants to do today. Perhaps he’d like to kick a puppy. Rolling my eyes at the childish thought, I push off the bed and make my way to the tray. I reach for the coffee first, which is rich and dark, and I add a splash of milk from a small porcelain jug and a spoon of sugar, which I slowly stir into the liquid.
“Didn’t take you for having a sweet tooth.” His deep baritone comes from behind me, and I almost drop the mug, but I set it down before I face him. I take him in, allowing my gaze to rove over him from head to toe. Dressed casually in a pair of dark blue jeans and a Henley, which matches the color of emeralds, I can’t help but admire just how handsome he is.
His tanned skin, with the dark dusting of stubble now closer to being a beard than not, makes my thighs involuntarily squeeze together. He doesn’t come inside; he lurks on the threshold of the bedroom, and I wonder if he’s staying far from me to hold onto some form of restraint.
“What was that gunshot last night?” I ask, remembering seeing him in the darkness, hearing the loud echo ringing in my ears. His expression turns dark as if he’s shutting down the hatches, keeping all the secrets inside. Those emeralds simmer with rage for a split second, but with a blink, it’s gone.