Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 91161 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91161 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“What the fuck, Bear! What is all this?” King growled. His fist was clenched at his side, and the hand that held mine grew tighter and tighter. I could feel his pulse racing in his wrist.
Bear smiled and held out his arms. “Dude, it’s a party. It’s Saturday. We used to throw ten of these in a seven day week. Didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming back down. You and I need to talk.” King pointed at Bear then dragged me upstairs to his room.
“I need you to stay in here while I talk to Bear. I’ll be right back.” For once, he wasn’t barking orders at me. It sounded more like a plea. “Close the door. Keep it locked.”
“Okay,” I said, stepping into the room and shutting the door. It was the first time he’d told me to do something that I didn’t feel the overwhelming need to argue with him.
Three hours later, there was still no sign of King, and the music seemed to be getting louder and louder. I’d read for a bit, clicked through some channels, and done my best to distract myself, but my curiosity was getting the best of me.
I didn’t want to disobey him, but maybe, I could at least change locations. I figured going into the tattoo studio in the next room wouldn’t be disobeying his orders too much. Besides¸ King’s sketchbook was in there, and it could help occupy me until he came back.
I crept out of the room. The party downstairs still raged although none of the party-goers had made their way upstairs like last time. I pushed open the door and stepped inside.
I wasn’t prepared for what I found.
My jaw fell to the floor along with my heart and any faith I had in King and his promises. My heart disintegrated in my chest.
It was dark in the room except for the neon lights beating in time with the bass of the Nine Inch Nails song playing on the iPod dock. King was perched on his chair with his eyes closed, a joint at his lips. His jeans were down around his ankles. A topless brunette was down on her knees in front of him, reaching for the waistband of his boxers.
“What the fuck,” I gasped. I was going to be sick. The asshole was just toying with me the entire time. He hadn’t meant a word. Maybe, that was the revenge he’d been wanting since Nikki stole from him. Maybe, that was his game the entire time and now that I was humiliated my debt had officially been paid.
King’s eyes opened suddenly, and I half-expected an apology for walking in and catching him in the act. At least, I expected an attempt at pulling up his pants. But it was my fault for thinking that way. Somewhere between the tattoos, the sandwiches on the dock, Grace’s house, and the carnival, I’d forgotten who I was dealing with.
This was the man who held me against my will. Handcuffed me to his bed. Threatened my life.
Killed his own mother.
He was the fucking devil himself. And all it took was a slutty brunette on her knees to remind me of that.
“Get out,” he barked. He took a long drag from the joint, then tugged on the brunette’s hair, tipping her head back. He leaned over until his lips were almost touching hers and made a show of blowing the smoke directly into her mouth.
I slammed the door and ran down the hall. I grabbed a bottle of something off of the kitchen table and headed outside to the dock, ignoring catcalls from some of the bikers I left in my wake.
I walked past the raging bonfire and toward the water.
I sat down on the end of the small pier and dangled my legs over the edge. I tore the cap off the bottle and tossed it into the water. I held up the bottom of the bottle and chugged a few mouthfuls of the amber liquid. It tasted like pure gasoline mixed with pine-cleaner, burning my throat and stomach on its way down. I took a breath and kept on drinking, swallowing one horrible tasting mouthful after another. I didn’t stop until I felt the hazy warmth begin to spread through me.
I wiped my mouth with my wrist and looked out onto the water.
I may not have known who I was in the past, but I knew who I didn’t want to be, and who I didn’t want to be was someone weak.
I’d fallen for it. His words. His body.
I’d fallen for him.
I may have set out to be a whore, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to allow myself to be treated like one.
He may have been the notorious Brantley King to everyone back in that house and everyone in that town, but to me, he just became the asshole. The asshole who just minutes before had broken my fucking heart.
Things were so much easier when I hated him.
“This seat taken?” A deep voice asked. I shrugged. Bear sat down next to me and lit a cigarette. “Something bothering you, pretty girl?”
“Nope,” I lied.
“I may not know shit about shit, but I can tell you that when a girl goes running from a party with only a bottle of whiskey for company, something is most definitely bothering her. In my experience, that something usually has a cock attached to it.” Bear exhaled the smoke.
“Well, you’re not completely wrong,” I admitted. Turning up the bottle again, the liquid no longer burned when I swallowed.
“Easy, girl,” Bear said, grabbing the bottle from me. He took a swig. “What’s going on between you and King, anyway? You his now? Cause he sure looks at you like you are. And seeing as he didn’t kill you and all, I’m thinking what he feels for you might be pretty fucking serious.”
I shook my head. “Right now, he’s in his studio, belonging to a brunette with fake tits.” My eyes welled up with tears, but I refused to cry at my own stupidity.