Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84194 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84194 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Was it a recovery ward or a mortuary back there? Were the girls recuperating or spread out in their corpse-shrouds?
I waited five minutes for his return.
When he didn’t, my curiosity overrode my concern, launching me off the gurney. My dress fluttered around my legs as I lost vision for a moment from standing too quickly.
Apart from a bruised throat and slightly croaky voice, I suffered no long-term effects. I’d lived through worse in Mexico, and I had full intention to follow Sully through the door. To stare at the girls who’d attacked me and reap my own retribution.
I’d use words as my weapon.
I’d listen to their grievances.
I’d do my best to prove I wasn’t a threat…even if they perceived me as one. I couldn’t help the bond between Sully and me—just like he couldn’t help it. But just like he fought it…I intended to do the same thing. Starting now, I would do my best to ignore the tingling awareness and heat whenever he was close because I had no intention of ending up a silly statistic.
Not anymore.
He hadn’t sold me to Roy Slater, so that meant he’d chosen to keep me. From now on, I would focus on serving out my four years, inching closer to my freedom, but I’d keep my heart far from his control, so I could return to reality and forget this twilight zone of callousness and crazy.
My bare feet padded across the sterile floor, past numerous shelving and medical equipment. My hand outstretched to press the door handle, only for it to swing open, returning Sully to my side.
I tripped backward, trying to see around him to the girls beyond.
He closed the door too quickly, preventing me from knowing.
“Are they okay?” I demanded, balling my hands by my sides.
He cleared his throat. “I need to get off this fucking island.” Holding out his hand, he softened his voice. “Come with me.”
I shook my head. “I want to know if they’re okay.”
“Why? They tried to kill you.”
“And you tried to kill them.” I cursed the jitters in my voice. “If that’s all that happened…it’s even. No debt. No payback. So…are they still alive?”
He groaned under his breath, then glared at the ceiling. “Why are you so fucking perfect?”
“Perfect?” I bared my teeth. “I’m not perfect. I want them to pay for what they did, Sully, but I don’t want them to die. All lives matter. Animal and human.”
He swooped toward me, cupping my cheeks, his entire body trembling. He backed me into a wall, our inertia vibrating a row of shelving, making vials spill and bounce on the floor.
I stiffened and liquefied.
I hated and lusted.
His fingers were pure fire. His body unequalled power.
“I meant why are you so perfect…for me?” He bent his head, his lips grazing mine with a kiss throbbing with apology.
It started innocent, sweet, gentle.
It ended wet, deep and sinful as his tongue slipped into my mouth, tasting me, almost as if convincing himself that I was still alive, still real.
I kissed him back.
I hated that I kissed him back.
But it was an impossibility to ignore him, to bite him, to deny this unconquerable need.
With another swipe of his tongue, he groaned and pulled away. Dropping his touch, he left me glued to the floor with quaking knees and scrambled thoughts.
My core clenched for him. My belly fluttered for him. And my stupid, stupid, stupid heart forgave him, thanked him, wanted, wanted, wanted him.
In the wreckage of our kiss, he slowly raised his hand again. His brows shadowed his complicated stare, his lips moving just enough to whisper, “Come with me…please.”
I swallowed hard, unable to transform air into proper volume. “Where?” I murmured.
“To Lebah.”
“What’s Lebah?” I hesitantly put my hand in his.
His fingers curled tight, possessive but also kind. His thumb stroked my knuckles as he tugged me to the exit. “You’ll see.”
* * * * *
My steps faltered as Sully guided me down a different path and out to a small bamboo pier. Tied at the end was a sleek black and chrome speedboat with a silver lion cresting from a curling wave and the name Singa Laut stencilled beneath.
I’d expected him to take me to the helipad.
I didn’t know he had other methods of transportation.
“Singa Laut?” I asked as Sully kept his possessive grip on my hand, tugging me toward the end of the pier. My bare feet burned a little on the hot bamboo. He wore thin black flip-flops that slapped quietly with each step.
He glanced down, slipping a pair of mirror-lensed aviators on his nose. “It’s Indo for Sea Lion.”
I squinted in the late afternoon sun, breathing an embarrassing sigh of relief as Sully lifted me silently into the luxury craft and immediately opened a small cupboard, gifting me a pair of sunglasses and baseball hat with a matching silver sea lion embroidered on the visor.