Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 129268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Fuck, my mate knows how to fight and make every blow count. The burning heat from her punches jolts me backward. I nearly fall off the bed, but I steady myself. “Babe, that hurt.” I pinch my nose to stop the bleeding and straighten it before it heals crooked. Drops of blood fall to the comforter. As I feel my nose mending, I hear her sobs.
“Vince.” She whimpers my name in between gasps. “Vince, I’m so sorry. Vincent.”
Still hunched over, I wait until the pain of the blows has passed, until physically it no longer exists. It’s only a memory.
I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and lean forward to kiss her on her tearstained cheek.
“Please forgive me. Forgive me, Vince, please. I’m so sorry. I—”
I cut her off, pressing her plump lips to mine and caress her face. “It’s all right, baby. I knew you wouldn’t like this. I knew …”
She shakes her head with her eyes shut tight and her lips pressed together, muting her panicked cries.
“It’s not okay. It’s not okay.” Her words are rushed, a new panic taking over. “Vince, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m not okay.”
I stroke her cheek until she opens her eyes and finds my silver gaze. “I forgive you, baby.”
“I’m scared.” She whispers the words before another tortured sobs erupts from her throat and she pulls against the chains again.
“It’s all right, my love. I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to prove to you that you can trust me.” Leaning in close, I kiss her again. Her mouth parts to grant me entry and I suckle her top lip before running my tongue along her sharp fangs.
“Please, Vince, I can’t.” She shakes her head and her deep brown eyes, rimmed in red, plead with me.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. Not yet.” Her head drops in defeat as she slowly nods and the sobs subside. “Give me a command, Veronica. I’m still yours.”
Her dark eyes filled with red tears find mine and she says, “Hold me.”
I lie down and settle my chest into her side before wrapping my powerful arms around her curves. I’ve never imagined her as this delicate before. I could easily crush her. She struggles against the shackles as another crying jag passes through her body; she trembles under my touch. A small part of me urges me to cave, not liking her reaction. My grip on her tightens. She needs this. She needs to learn to trust me. In time, I know she will.
“What do you want from me, Mistress?” I use her pet name, hoping that will calm her.
“I’m cold.” Her softly uttered words contain a plea, not a command. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pull the covers over our bodies and kiss the small dip in her throat.
“What else?” I need her to command me. I need her to find her strength.
“Just hold me.” She sobs again and pulls against her chains as I lie back and gently place her head on my chest.
She cries silently. “I got you, babe. I promise.” I barely speak the words, but my vow resonates through her, calming her. It hits me hard that she’s not herself. She’s not the strong, confident woman I know. She’s so damn wounded. “I got you.” I kiss her shiny black hair and let her cry.
Next time will be better. Next time I’ll push her a little more. Until there is nothing between us but trust. Until she doesn’t fear a damn thing in this world. Until she knows I will love her in her worst moments and through it all.
Part II
Blinded Obsession
Devin
Every wall of Alec’s office is lined with shelves that run from floor to ceiling. They hold a priceless collection of ancient books that no doubt contain information lost to civilization over time. The dark wood of antique furniture polished to a high shine, yet bearing the marks of history, adorns the office. In the very center of the three-story room sits a heavy desk with books stacked high upon its glossy surface. Two leather wingback chairs have been placed across from it. The pendant lamp above Alec’s desk encompasses an open flame, matching the torches placed in sconces around the room.
If I wasn’t aware that magic protects this space, I’d worry the texts would be in danger of being lost forever in a fire. It is common knowledge, though, that this room is heavily guarded by powerful wards.
I take a seat across from him and the old leather groans in protest. We’re nearly matched in our attire: dark slacks and simple button-down shirts. Although my clothes are custom tailored to fit my body perfectly. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses peek out from his shirt pocket and today he’s opted for a navy blue tie.
It’s not the first time I’ve come to visit him here, but this is the first time it’s been to deliver bad news.