Total pages in book: 205
Estimated words: 204377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1022(@200wpm)___ 818(@250wpm)___ 681(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 204377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1022(@200wpm)___ 818(@250wpm)___ 681(@300wpm)
“Anyone in my position would do the same. It’s called self-preservation.”
“There have been others in your position. As it turns out, their long games weren’t so long.” He sighs. “Tell me, what part of the plan are you stuck on? Maybe I can help.”
“Are your sons blood-related?”
“I thought you had all the answers.”
“I have the answers I need. I want to hear the fine points from your perspective.”
“Fair enough.” He takes an unhurried drink. “Yes. We’re all blood related.”
“They have the same father? Is it you?”
“Different fathers, different mothers, and each boy is related to me in a different way. It’s an intricate puzzle, one I insist you figure out yourself.”
I don’t care how they’re related, only that they are. “So you condone incest?”
“There are worse things in this world. Things that would rather eat their young than mate with them.”
“Humans do neither.”
“Evidence proves otherwise.”
“Why is this your way?”
“What is my way?”
“Kidnap women. Rape them. Rape their children. Carry away bodies.”
“You think I need therapy?”
“You’re beyond that. You need to leave this world.”
“I did. I left the human world with all its cruelty and violence and came here. Hoss is my world.” He gestures around him. “I don’t approve of violence and only use it as a last resort.”
And therein lies his weakness. Fucking ironic. If he walked around swinging a chainsaw and spraying blood, we would have no choice but to cower in submission, no bargains needed.
But he wants peace.
He’s a murderer and a serial rapist who lives by a fucked-up code of conduct. He doesn’t approve of violence, yet those who interfere with his twisted romantic interests end up buried alive or burned on the pyre.
He rationalizes his actions by telling himself that love justifies everything, the good and the bad.
Except most people don’t kill for love.
“You killed Leo’s mother.” My hand flexes on the armrest. “How is that not violent?”
“She struck first.” He tilts his head. “Violence is in our nature, inherited from our animal ancestors. It’s necessary for our survival. But humanity took that instinct and made it darker, twisting it into something ugly and cruel. The things humans do to each other…I don’t want that here. I built this world with devotion and intellect. A world where we’re allowed to be things of nature, where we’re free to learn and grow and make love to whomever we want.”
“Rape is not love.”
“I make love to those I cherish and adore.”
“Did you make love to Jasmine Noel?”
“No.” His expression blackens in the firelight. “That was a task, one I didn’t enjoy. It ruins the moment when your lover is wailing and kicking to get away, don’t you agree?”
Bone-chilling. Every word out of his mouth lowers my body temperature ten degrees.
“You understand the nature of stalking and raping better than anyone. I mean, you’ve been doing it for twenty-seven years. So you can’t possibly believe what you do with your sons is consensual?”
“I didn’t say that. I know they disapprove.”
“Disapprove? They despise it. They dread it. What you’ve done to them is abusive and evil. Do you understand that word? You. Are. Evil.”
“Love is not evil, little girl. I will do absolutely anything for them, including lying, kidnapping, theft, torture, and murder.”
“And rape.”
“Yes, when occasion requires it.”
“See, I think you’re sane enough to understand that raping and killing people isn’t right, but you convinced yourself there’s no other way. How is your inner struggle?”
“How is yours?” His gravelly voice is so calm. Too calm.
“What struggle?”
“Would you have come to me tonight if you didn’t have skin in the game?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you thought I might kill you, would you be here, trying to outmaneuver me? Would you be here if I didn’t want inside your pussy?”
That word, slithering past his lips, momentarily stuns me. He’s usually so refined, a predator with a debonair manner and polite language. But a predator, nonetheless.
That’s the dichotomy of Denver Strakh. He appreciates gentility and etiquette and still orchestrates heinous acts.
Heinous acts that involve my body.
“Are you here to protect my boys?” he asks. “Or yourself?”
“Both.”
“Which takes priority?”
I don’t know what’s worse. Being on the receiving end of his lascivious intent? Or being subjected to his mind games and manipulation? His ability to read and analyze me makes him terrifyingly scary.
“Come on, Frankie. You know what I want.”
The devil demands flesh.
He wants nonviolent sex with the promise of children.
And he knows what I want.
“Your sons are my priority.” I finish off the bourbon and meet his stare. “You will never touch them again.”
“How will you go about ensuring that?”
He can no longer overpower them. But he can still hurt them through coercion. That’s where I come in.
If his plan succeeds, I’ll get pregnant.
It’s been a month since I lost my baby. Under normal conditions, a woman’s body may start to ovulate as soon as two weeks after a miscarriage, making it possible to become pregnant again very quickly. However, the timing varies from one person to another, depending on the woman’s health, the nature of the miscarriage, and any other complications.