Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Ryat told me this could happen. That her father could come after her to get to me. But why? He would only do that if I loved her. If he truly thought that taking her from me would hurt me.
I married her for a reason, and it wasn’t to fall in love with her. It was for revenge.
Right.
I turn off the water and step out of the shower. Drying off, I wrap the towel around my hips and step out of the bathroom and come to a stop. Lake stands in the bedroom.
She hasn’t spoken to me much in the last ten days. She’s avoided me, and I’ve allowed it. Mainly because I felt bad. I’m a man, and I failed her. I might have forced her to marry me, but I’m still her husband. No man likes to fail. Especially me.
“Lake—”
“You gave me one table,” she growls, interrupting me.
“You’re still in recovery.” Gavin gave her the clear, and I wanted to break his fucking neck. She’s not ready.
“I’m fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Next thing, you’ll be saying that I should quit.”
I just stare at her.
“Tyson.” She steps toward me. “You can’t be serious.”
I reach out, cup her face, and her eyes soften, leaning into it. “It’s not safe. Not right now.”
She pulls away, and my hand drops to my side. “So you’re saying you care if I live or die?”
“Of course, I fucking care.” My eyes narrow on her.
“Since when?” She gives a rough laugh.
I ignore that question. “You’re fired. And that’s that.” Walking past her, I go over to the dresser and open it to grab a pair of boxer briefs.
“So you force me to work here dressed like a whore, then you fire me?”
I look up at her in the mirror, and she’s glaring at me, hands on her hips.
“What am I supposed to do, Tyson?” she demands. “Just sit up here and wait for you to speak to me? Huh? Only see you when you want to fuck me?”
“No,” I growl.
“Then what the fuck am I supposed to do with my life?” she shouts.
“Stay alive,” I answer. “And you can’t do that if you’re out there getting stabbed.”
She snorts. “Jesus Christ, Tyson. That is such bullshit, and you know it.” She angrily shoves her shorts down her legs, unsnaps her leotard, kicks off her shoes along with her fishnets, throwing them to the floor. Standing naked behind me, I turn to look at her.
My eyes drop to the fresh wound on her side. Gavin said her stitches would dissolve, so she doesn’t need them removed, but it’s still red and bruised. Walking over to the bed, she yanks back the covers and crawls into it. She jerks them up to cover her body and glares at me with her arms crossed over her chest.
“What are you doing?” I ask with a sigh.
“This is what you want me to do, right? Wait here naked for you?” She arches a dark brow, and I fist my hands. “Why don’t you just tie me down and leave me here until you’re ready to use me.”
“Laikyn,” I growl, irritated with her and myself. She thinks that way because that’s the way I’ve treated her.
“That’s what I’m good for.” She shrugs. “Except don’t knock me up.” Giving a rough laugh, she adds, “Because I’m not good enough to birth Tyson Crawford’s child.”
“Lake!” I bark.
“But my sister was,” she goes on. “She was good enough to fuck and knock up.”
I run a hand down my unshaven face. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have forced me to marry you.” She shrugs. “Then you’d be free to fuck whoever you want.”
I want to rush over to the bed, wrap my hand around her neck, and strangle her. Tie her to the bed and leave her there while I go to work, knowing when I return, she’ll be begging me to fuck her. But I can’t. Not now.
So instead, I turn and exit the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me, and head to my office.
LAIKYN
He turned and walked out of the bedroom. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Or why I fucking care. After I saw him kill that guy down in the basement, I wanted a fight. Something about the way he killed him for me makes me question everything.
It wasn’t like when he killed Walter because he touched me, or Collin because I sat on his lap. It was … different. It wasn’t a don’t touch what’s mine. It was a you hurt what’s mine, and I’m going to make you pay for it.
I hate how much it made me feel loved. Violence does not equal love. A Lord kills for his fucking oath, that doesn’t mean he loves it. But I’ve never seen a Lord hate what he does. They’ve been conditioned from a young age to accept torture and death as their life. Their grandfathers did it and they watched their fathers do it.