Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
I watch Drew climb to his feet, his movements slow, and I can’t stop looking into his eyes. Like a moth drawn to a flame, even while knowing the power the flame has over me, I continue to stare, mesmerized, frozen with fear.
Those green emeralds shine in the slivers of moonlight that make it through the trees, and what they reflect is something far scarier than anything I could’ve ever imagined—retribution.
13
DREW
Ifeel the burn of the cut along my skin, proof that she really did cut me, but somehow, I can’t make my brain believe that she actually did. The first cut on my arm was nothing more than a graze, but this one is deep enough that the skin pulls when I shift my arm.
I exhale through my nose. "Flower… that wasn’t very nice of you.”
She peers up at me, her eyes round and wide, the whites circling her entire iris. I watch her throat as she swallows hard and loud.
"I...I asked you to let me go…" Her voice wavers.
"And I told you no. I had no idea you wanted to play so dirty. If I knew, I would’ve come better prepared."
She blinks a few times, her eyes tracking down to the wound. The vodka on her breath reaches me as her breathing picks up.
Make her pay. Remind her who you are. Who she belongs to.
The predator lingers right at the surface, demanding retribution, but he doesn’t understand that there is no reward in any of this if we lose her.
Still, she made her choice, and every choice has a consequence. I snatch her by the wrist and tug her forward until her small frame runs into my chest. She struggles, but I wrap my other hand around her throat and squeeze, just enough to show her that I’m in control.
The more fear that fills her eyes, the harder my cock becomes.
Is it weird, despite her trying to stab me, that I want her hands on me? That I crave her fucking touch like I crave my next breath because she wants to touch me, even if it’s out of violence.
The cut on my pec burns, and I bring her hand back to my chest, pressing the shard of glass against my skin. Then I take a step forward, placing my foot between her legs.
Instantly, she scrambles to shift out of the way. Nope. You’re mine now.
"Oh no. Don’t be afraid, Flower. I haven’t made you bleed… not yet.”
Panic sets in, and her struggle intensifies. I add pressure to her hand, the one with the glass in it. It has yet to break the skin, but it will soon.
"Wallflower..." I warn, squeezing her throat a little tighter.
She uses her other hand to bat at me, and her nails sink into my skin. The pain only heightens my pleasure. She did this to herself, to us. Her declaration was that she doesn’t want me, and that she never has. Well, I’m going to prove her fucking wrong.
I caress her plump bottom lip with my thumb, slowly loosening my grip on her throat. I watch as she sucks a ragged breath into her lungs.
As the panic recedes from her gaze, she still appears afraid, but somehow manages to lift her chin in defiance. "I'm not sorry.”
"I didn’t expect you to be. If this is the only way to lessen the pain you’re feeling, I'll let you plant that glass shard right in my fucking heart.”
There’s a shift in her gaze, a softening, and she flinches. "I don't..."
"I know you want me to feel the pain you felt, but this isn't you, Wallflower. You don't lash out in violence. You don't make others feel pain because you're hurting. Yes, I fucked up and hurt you in a way that no one else in your life ever has. I hurt you when you needed someone most, and I’m sorry. I can’t go back in time and change what happened, and I don’t know if I would. I don’t regret protecting you from my father." I try to keep my voice low and my tone gentle, but it doesn't help.
There's still this frantic energy about her, this need to run, and she jerks her wrists to escape me again, but I tighten my grasp. It might leave bruises, but she's doing it to herself at this point.
"Maybe you don't know me anymore. Maybe I’ve changed."
My lips turn up at the sides. She’s so fucking cute, trying to be this angry, vicious being when that’s not who she is. Bel is grace, kindness, sunshine and equality. But most of all, she is mine.
"Changing those parts of you would be like trying to change the most influential pieces of who you are. You're not the villain, baby, you aren’t a killer, and you aren’t a monster. Leave those roles to me.”