Total pages in book: 230
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
“You always treat me well, Alyssa,” he said, his pale blue gaze crawling over my length. “You know how I have a soft spot for redheads.”
“A soft spot.” The female fae called Alyssa let go of my arm. “More like a hard-on.”
Oh dear.
I kept my face impressively blank as Tobias jerked his chin. Oscar worthy, really. Another fae came forward, out of the shadows. He was a tall one and it took everything in me not to flinch as he put his hands on me, skimming them down my front and back, checking for weapons. The fae had gotten smarter in the last two years.
So had we.
The fae’s hands moved up my legs meticulously and then my hips. His fingers glanced over the wide cuffs at my wrists. “She’s clear.”
“Good.” Tobias leaned forward. “Come here, Red.”
I forced my steps to be slow and uneven, and when he lifted his hand to me, I placed mine in his even though it utterly sickened me.
Tobias didn’t pull me into his lap like I expected. Instead, he rose from the couch. “What time will Aric be here?”
Aric? That name wasn’t familiar to me; then again, it wasn’t like I hung out with these murderous, psychotic Winter fae.
“You have an hour, tops.” Alyssa tossed herself onto the couch. “Make good use of it.”
“You bet.” He circled his arm around my waist, drawing me to his front. He smelled good. Like winter mint. But they all smelled good. They all looked good, too. And this fae was obviously in the mood for more than just feeding, which was what I was betting on. “You want seconds?”
“Sure,” the female fae purred. “If there’s anything left.”
Tobias lifted me up without warning, tossing me over his shoulder like a damn Neanderthal claiming his prize. To go limp scratched at my skin as he stalked across the short distance. A door opened and then we were inside a room that I imagined a lot of very bad things happened in. He kicked the door shut behind us and I heard the lock turn without him touching it.
His hand curved over my ass as he lowered me onto the floor. Strands of red hair had fallen in front of my face, and I stood there as he brushed them back behind my ears. “Do you know why I like redheads? No. Of course you don’t.”
I blinked slowly, taking in the room as he let go. There was a chair. A bed that looked… well used. My stomach churned with nausea. But he didn’t go to the bed; he went to the throne-like chair with crushed velvet cushions. He sat and stared up at me.
“Come on. Don’t be shy.” Those pale eyes seemed to burn. “We’re going to get to know each other, aren’t we?”
“Yes?” I whispered.
A half smile spread across his lips as he hooked a finger in my direction. “Come on then.”
I forced a small smile as I shuffled to him. The gasp was real when he grabbed my hips and tugged me down into his lap, causing the skirt to ride up my thighs. He toyed with the straps of my dress, tracing the low v-shaped neckline.
“You want me?” he asked.
That was an odd, unnecessary question. Guess someone had a low sense of self worth or something. “Yes.”
“You’ll let me do anything to you, won’t you?”
I forced myself to nod. “Yes.”
“Then touch me,” he ordered softly.
My jaw clenched as I placed my hands on his shoulders, smoothing them over his chest.
“Honestly, I really don’t like redheads.” His hand moved fast, closing around my throat. “I hate them.”
Oh, hell.
He squeezed not too gently, digging his fingers into my windpipe as he drew me forward. His icy breath danced over my lips as I winced at the spike of pain. “Why?” His other hand was on the move, sliding down my spine, going lower. “They remind me of the bitch halfling.”
I knew exactly who he was talking about.
Ivy Morgan—wait, she was Ivy Owens now, having gotten married over Christmas to Ren.
Then, before I had a chance to process what he was doing, his cold mouth was on mine. Lips. Teeth. Tongue. It was harsh and brutal, and I wondered if he even knew how to kiss or if he cared. He let go of my throat, and I figured there’d be bruises there later.
I held still as he eased the straps of my dress down my arms, fueled by one of the most powerful emotions known to man.
Vengeance.
I was so close to retribution, I could taste the bitter sweetness of it on the tip of my tongue. It burned through the iciness his kiss left behind.
The top slipped, pooling low on my hips and exposing the black, seriously uncomfortable strapless bra. My gaze fixed on the ceiling as his cool lips skated down the column of my throat and then lower, over the swell of my breast. I forced my body to stay loose, accepting even as the tips of his fingers skated over my sides to where the material bunched. His fingers brushed the thin, silver chain that rode low around my hips.