Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Letting out a shaky breath, I spy Alex’s things on his side table, and my brow arches. There are car keys, two phones, a pocketknife, and his wallet. It’s a strange little mix of things to be carrying around, but I could definitely use the car keys and one of those phones. We’re out in suburbia and back home, I would usually just walk everywhere, but getting anywhere from here on foot is going to take forever. Hell, I’m not even sure where here is, but I’m sure the phone will help with that. The second I can get far enough away, I can pull over, figure out where I am, and call Nat to let her know I’m alright. After that, who knows.
With a bunch of old moving boxes piled high on Alex’s side of the bed, I have no choice but to reach over him, and I curse myself for even attempting this. Maybe I would have a better chance if I just take off on foot. Though that begs the question, how did Alex find me in the first place? Does he have a tracker on me?
Being my only chance to make a move without the cuff, I try to gain control of the wild butterflies soaring through the pit of my stomach before pulling myself up onto my knees. I think light thoughts and inch toward him, hoping like fuck he doesn’t wake. Then trying to offset my weight, I grip onto the headboard while slowly lifting my knee up and over his hips.
Think light thoughts. Think light thoughts.
I’m as light as a feather. I’m a soft breeze blowing through the wind. I’m a falling leaf, gently sailing through the air.
My knee comes down gently on his other side, and I find myself holding my breath as I start to lean over, reaching toward the bedside table. I hold my breath, stretching my arm out as far as it’ll go. Just another inch and I’ll be there.
Alex’s body stiffens beneath me and before I can even drop my gaze, his hand is shooting up to my throat and squeezing tight. I suck in a gasp, fear pounding through my veins.
Fuck. I’m an elephant.
His furious gaze locks on mine, and I panic, terrified that this could be the end, but as a wicked smirk cuts across his face, I glance down, finding his pocketknife braced in the palm of my hand, the sharp blade pressed firmly against his throat.
I remain still, unsure where the hell to go from here. Despite the knife in my hand and the damage I could inflict on him, he still clearly has the upper hand. “What are you doing, Kyah?” he questions as I stare down into his dark gaze, the one belonging to the vile stalker who I see each night, not the dazzling man from across the hall.
“It’s been three days, Alex,” I remind him, my brain barely working as I scramble for something to say. “I’m bored of playing your little house bitch. I’m going home.”
He narrows his gaze, quickly assessing the situation like a perfect soldier, and despite the cuff laying freely beside us, he doesn’t make a move to lock me up, knowing damn well that any move I try to make can be easily counteracted. “You’ll leave when I say you can leave.”
Pressing down on the blade, I watch as its sharp tip digs into his flesh. “I’m not fucking around,” I tell him, my heart thundering in my chest. I’ve never held someone’s life in my hands before, and knowing that I have the ability to end him with nothing more than a flick of my wrist is intoxicating.
His gaze darkens, and as he holds my stare, I realize he’s daring me to do it. He wants me to know what it’s like, wants me to feel the power pulsing through my veins just as he does whenever he takes someone’s life, but I could never. Not to him. Because when I look down at him, beneath the eyes of my wicked stalker, is the heart of the man I’ve fallen completely head over heels in love with.
A heavy silence settles in the air between us, creating a thick tension as we fight for dominance. His lips quirk into a twisted grin, and as his hand closes over mine on the blade, I suck in a terrified gasp.
Then just when I think he’s going to turn the blade on me, he presses down harder, the sharp tip piercing his skin before he drags the blade along the length of his throat. My hands start to shake, my eyes widening. The cut isn’t deep enough to cause any real damage, but it sure as hell is enough to bleed.
His blood begins to trickle down the side of his neck, staining the bedsheets and pooling at the base of his throat. The second he releases my hand, I let go of the blade, letting it clatter against the old hardwood floor beside the bed.