Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
This was a fine piece she held. One she imagined had seen a lot of death.
Sharp as well.
Climbing off the bed, she advanced toward the bathroom but forced herself to pause. This wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t have much of a chance of killing him. This would be nothing short of a death wish.
Could she do it?
Another few steps, and she opened the door and winced at hearing the slight squeak from the hinge.
Damon didn’t appear, and she breathed a sigh of relief. With every step she took, she had to wonder if she should hold herself back.
She got to the shower and reached out to open the door. This was a big mistake. She knew that without even reaching for it, but she couldn’t stop herself.
This was her chance. Even if she killed him now, his guards wouldn’t let her live. She would have to find a way to sneak away. With the door open, she was about to step inside, but all of a sudden, Damon grabbed her and thrust her against the wall, startling her with how quickly he reacted.
She cried out as he grabbed her wrist. The pressure provided enough pain for her to drop the knife. She pulled her feet back, not wanting them to be cut.
Milah couldn’t look away as she stared at Damon. He was completely naked.
She hadn’t thought this through. She’d never seen a man naked before. So long as she didn’t look down, she wouldn’t see just how naked she was.
The shower sprayed between them, but Damon decided to close the distance, and then he was right next to her.
All she wore was a thin, cotton negligee. It reminded her of something out of a historical period drama. There was no shape to it, but it provided coverage and modesty. With his hands on her shoulders, his body so close to hers, she wished she had some kind of armor to keep him away. There was nothing to protect her.
“You do have a death wish, don’t you?” he asked.
She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held her firm.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You knew I would grab it.”
He chuckled. “You’re exactly right. What I want to know is how a Russo can hold a knife so expertly.”
“I’m no expert.”
“You have been able to fight my men, take them by surprise, figure out ways of escaping. Climbing down the side of buildings, and now you’re able to hold a knife in a way that shows it’s not just self-defense. How?”
She wanted to avert her gaze, but with how he looked at her, it was next to impossible.
She couldn’t tell him. This was part of her training.
“I have no idea what you mean,” she said.
“They could train you to take care of yourself, but they sure didn’t train you to be a good liar. You’re shitty at it.”
“And you’re a shitty captor.”
As far as comebacks went, that one was awful, and she tried not to wince. All he did was laugh, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.
To him, it probably was.
Damon took her by surprise, though. Rather than call his men and order her death, or to be locked up, he closed the distance between them.
She was right.
Her negligee was flimsy and not designed to ward off his body. Certainly a rather pointy part of his anatomy. She tensed up as his cock pressed against her stomach.
It had to be that. Or he was harvesting some kind of alien life force.
She wanted to look, but she kept her gaze on his.
This was the only way to survive.
Even as her heart raced and the desire to look down was so strong, she held it together, against all the odds. It would be so easy to look down. To see what he was … keeping alive.
“You think I’m a captor? Do you think this is some kind of romance tale?”
She glared at him. How dare he mock her? He had no idea who he was dealing with. She tried to push him away, but all that achieved was to bring him even closer as he pressed her hands above her head, locking her in place.
“I hate you.”
It wasn’t a great threat. He probably loved that she hated him.
“And I hate you, Milah Russo. I hate your kind. I hate your name, and one day, you will die because of it.”
“Then kill me now. Get what you want.”
He chuckled. It wasn’t a nice sound.
“You think that is all I want?” Another laugh. This one sounded on the verge of hysteria.
Milah had no idea what he had planned, but she also didn’t want to know.
He leaned in close so his lips were beside her ear. “Do you think I am a man so easily satisfied?”
“I think you’re a sick, evil, twisted bastard. Just like all the De Lucas.” They were responsible for killing her mother. It was why her father had been on a warpath, so determined to end every single one of them. He’d failed.