Total pages in book: 266
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
He sticks the needle into the glass vial, pulling back the plunger to fill it up. Placing it on the counter, he turns to face me.
His blue eyes remain on mine while he slowly walks toward me, and I scream into the tape that I fucking hate him. As if he cares.
“Don’t worry, Annabelle. This will only hurt for a second.” He grips my chin and shoves my face to the side, and I feel a sting in my neck.
HAIDYN
After removing the needle from her neck, I step back and place the cap on it. Then I toss the syringe onto the island, lean back against it, and cross my arms over my chest to wait.
Her chest rises and falls quickly from her heavy breathing, and her nipples are still hard. She looks absolutely stunning tied to the chair. So many things come to mind while having her in this position, and none of them include what I’m about to do to her.
She groans, her head falling back and then forward. It’s working.
Her legs are spread, each ankle duct-taped to each front leg, and her arms are down by her side, wrists also duct-taped to the back legs of the chair. I made sure to undress her so nothing got in the way. I wanted to see how her body reacted to the situation.
Walking over to her, I grip her chin again and push her head back so she has to look up at me. Her eyes are dilated and heavy. She blinks a few times, looking at the ceiling aimlessly. My hand drops to her neck, and I feel her pulse.
Strong and steady.
Reaching up, I grip the tip of the several pieces of duct tape that I placed over her mouth and rip them off.
She gasps, her head falling forward, her hair covering her face from me. I gather it all in one hand and pull her head up, holding it. “How do you feel?” I ask her.
“What…what did you give me?” she asks, her eyes still unfocused.
I ignore that and let go of her hair. I cup her face and run my thumb over her parted lips. I take in her pretty face. She’s still got makeup on from the club last night. The black eye shadow is smeared, her blush has rubbed off, and her lipstick has faded. Her fake lashes clump in various spots. She still looks fucking gorgeous. Like she spent all night on her knees being my good girl.
“Talk to me, Charlotte. How do you feel?” I ask, my eyes searching hers.
“Drunk,” she slurs, and her lashes flutter.
“Good.” Let’s get started. “Why did the Lords send you to Carnage?” I need answers, and this is the best way to get them.
“Assignment.” She licks her lips.
“You’re on an assignment?” It’s not what I thought it was. I figured, at the very most, it was an initiation.
“Y-yes.”
Interesting. “Why did they send you to me?”
Her head falls back, and her blue eyes meet mine. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit,” I hiss, though I know she’s telling the truth. Running a hand down my face, I ask, “What do you know about me?”
“I know you’re a Spade brother...” She swallows. “Your parents are dead...you killed your father.” Her eyes search mine, but I doubt she’s seeing me.
The Spade brother isn’t a secret to her. She knows that because she’s been seeing me at Carnage. My mom being dead isn’t a stretch. My father being dead? She can know that because again, Saint, Kash, and I run Carnage. But how he died? “Why would I kill him?”
“Because you love her.”
Her answer makes me frown, throwing me off. “Who do I love?”
“Ashtyn.”
I’ve only ever said that out loud to one person. It was recently, but I know she hasn’t told anyone. “Who told you that?” I inquire.
“My mother and her friend.”
This is what I wanted to know. Now we’re getting somewhere. “Been talking to your mother about me?” I know who her parents are.
She goes to roll her heavy eyes, but her whole head makes a circle. “She only knows that I have sessions with you—that you’re my assignment.”
Well, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I try to think what else I can ask while I have the upper hand. A thought comes to mind. I gather her hair and push her head forward. “Where did you get this?” I ask, running my fingers over the Lords brand on her upper back. I had seen it the first night I was in her house when I placed the tracker in her neck. I figured she was someone’s chosen and they branded her.
“The Lords gave it to me,” she mumbles.
With my hand still in her hair, I yank her head back and look down at her. “Why would they brand you?”
“Initiation. I either had to cut a woman’s off or give myself the same one. I removed hers, and they ended up giving me one to match.”