Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77276 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
The bones of her shoulder were sharp against his palm. So fragile. She looked like a doll. Breakable but beautiful. Nothing he was meant to own. His skin looked dirty compared to hers and he raised his hand a few inches, half expecting her skin to come away smudged from his touch.
She was nothing he had ever thought in his reach. She wasn’t meant to be. Nothing he was meant to touch with his scarred, brutal hands.
He wasn’t worthy.
Not worth it.
Not worth it.
Not worth it.
Something hot and sharp clawed at his chest. He didn’t like it, not one bit. He pushed off the bed, staggering to his feet. She stayed on her back, eyes full of confusion and questions, and again that flicker of fucking hope. “You better stop it,” he growled.
“What?” she whispered.
“Hoping. It’s a waste.” He picked her up. To him she weighed nothing. He needed her gone, out of his view. He carried her out of his room and into the small guestroom, he’d never had to use before. She trembled against him and for some reason it made him even angrier. He dropped her on the bed and she let out a shocked breath. He turned on his heel, tired of looking at her, of wondering, of doubting himself.
It shouldn’t…it didn’t matter why Falcone had given her to him. She was his to do with as he pleased. He headed toward the door and slammed it closed behind himself. Tomorrow he’d claim her. Worth it or not. He fucking deserved something good in his life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cara
I winced as the door slammed shut. Surprised the sound had managed to penetrate the fog of fear and the hammering of my heart. I felt dazed. Slowly I sat up. My body ached, and I wasn’t sure if it was from my fight with Growl or if it was terror manifesting in a more physical way. I knew nothing anymore. My world had been shattered, and soon I’d share the same fate. Growl had left, had spared me for now, but he’d return.
He’d return.
I turned my head very slowly and peered down at my torn shirt, at my naked shoulder. I remembered his touch there. My fingertips brushed the skin, and I shivered, then traced my throat and the spot beneath my ear. His touch was still there, like an imprint. I closed my eyes, released a harsh breath. My heartbeat didn’t slow. My heart raced, as if it was eager to beat a way out of my chest, away, far away from my body.
I wished it were that easy, leaving your body, drifting off to better places and times. But this was foolish thinking. There would be no miracle that would take me away from this place, from Growl’s reach. Most of my life I’d lived in a bubble, removed from the reality that so many people faced. I couldn’t allow myself that luxury anymore. If I wanted to flee my fate, I’d have to save myself. No one would come to my rescue, not my bodyguards who now served Falcone, probably always had. Not my traitorous fiancé. Not my father, who had probably already been dumped somewhere no one could find him, or been given to Falcone’s fight dogs as a snack. My chest clenched, but I fought the emotion. There was no sense in pitying the dead. They had nothing to lose anymore. But I had, my mother had, Talia had.
I let out a shuddering sob and quickly clamped my palm over my lips. I didn’t want Growl to overhear me, lest it excited him and he changed his mind about sparing me for tonight. I crawled toward the edge of the bed and put one foot on the hardwood floor, then waited for my muscles to stop shaking before I dared to get on my feet. My legs felt unsteady. Everything did.
I looked around. This room was even sparser than the last. The walls were empty. The wooden floorboards completely scratched.
Blood stains marred my shirt. It was ruined. I couldn’t bear wearing it a second longer. I ripped it off my body and wrapped my arms around myself. There were no clothes in the one shabby cupboard. Everything I owned was still at my house. There wasn’t another door except the one Growl had left through, so I didn’t have a bathroom to myself. There was nothing, except the shabby furniture. I sank back down onto the mattress. Maybe I could try to sneak out of the house after nightfall. I draped the blanket over my shoulders, covering myself up. If Growl returned, I didn’t want to wear nothing except for a bra. As if that would stop him.
I heard sniffing and then scratching at the door. My body tightened with fear as I crept toward the door. It sounded like dogs. When I arrived in front of the door, a deep bark sounded and I jumped back. The dog sounded big, dangerous. Hadn’t Father once mentioned that Falcone bred fight dogs for entertainment?