Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 126522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
I come to an immediate standstill.
A sharp gasp tears from my lungs as my eyes widen with fear. “I DID NOT GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO LEAVE MY DINING HALL,” Roman’s booming tone tears through the room. “YOU WILL SIT AND YOU WILL ENJOY YOUR LAST FULL MEAL.”
I slowly turn, crippled with fear and unable to put one foot in front of the other. My gaze comes straight back to Roman’s and I stare at him as though his brothers aren’t even in the room.
He steps out from his chair and walks around the table, taking painfully slow strides toward me, stalking me like his pathetic prey as though he has all night to inflict his devilish torture. He doesn’t stop moving until he stands right before me, and I’m all too aware of his thick fingers hanging by his sides, knowing just how quickly they could snap my neck. “Poor behavior will get you nowhere,” he promises me with a deathly whisper, his breath brushing against my skin as he towers over me. “Don’t be fooled. If you make threats and offer us the chance to take your life, we will take it willingly, but here we are offering you the gift of life by allowing you to continue breathing. You are new here and do not yet know our rules, so for tonight, we will be lenient with you, but pull that shit again, and you will suffer the very real consequences. Is that clear, Empress?”
I swallow hard and nod, absolutely positive that he means every damn word, and while I put on a brave face, I’m not ready to die, not even close. I haven’t even had a chance to live yet.
Roman hovers over me, his eyes not budging from mine as his brothers watch on with interest. A lump forms in the back of my throat and I find myself starting to break. “Why me?” I murmur, asking the same question I’d asked of Levi, the very one he’d refused to answer. “There are so many other girls. I’m not who you need for … for whatever this is, and I … I’m not ready to die.”
Roman’s head tilts with that same psychotic expression that both of his brothers possess. His fingers come up and trail down the side of my face making me flinch with his contact. “Sit and eat,” he demands, his tone not matching his gentle touch. “Do as you are told and I will consider giving you the insight in which you seek.”
“You mean that?” I question, not prepared to trust his response.
“Do not question me in my home,” he growls, his fingers dropping away from my face. “I have told you that tonight you will be given leniency. How far that leniency goes is up to you. Now sit and eat.”
His hand reaches up again, this time moving around me, and I hold my breath as his skin brushes past my unkempt hair. He pauses for only a second, his eyes boring into mine, and without warning, he flinches, yanking the knife out of the door beside my head.
I suck in a gasp, hating how obvious I am about my fear. He takes a step back and indicates for me to move back to my seat.
Not ready to push boundaries again, I hastily move back to the table, glancing up just in time to watch as Marcus washes down a pill with a clear liquid that I assume is anything but water. Taking my seat, I glance around the table again, going over the options and hesitating with the foods before me, not educated enough to know what half of it is. “When you say that I’ll need energy,” I question, glancing back at Levi. “How much are we talking?”
“You better fill that plate,” he tells me. “And make it fast. My patience is growing thin.”
5
My plate is all but licked clean and I stare down at it in astonishment. That was one of the best meals I’ve ever had, despite the possibility that it could have been laced with drugs, poison, or who the hell knows what. It was the expensive kind of meal that I imagine a fancy restaurant would serve. People like me don’t eat like this, but I guess the DeAngelis brothers are living in luxury every freaking night. Though, I’m sure they probably have a professional chef chained to the stove. I’ll have to check that out at some point.
I slide the plate in front of me, unsure if that’s proper table etiquette, but honestly, I don’t give a fuck if it’s not. All I want to do is make a point that I’ve been a good little girl and abided by their ridiculous rules. So now, maybe they can offer me what I want to know in return.