Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Stay under the radar.
Learn information.
Survive.
I came for vengeance.
Not friendship. Not a family. Not love
Yet here I am, drowning in all of those things.
Callan ‘Pain’ Cox was supposed to be the enemy.
But I’ve become addicted to his touch—taste—punishment.
With my secrets laid bare, those around me continue to hide theirs.
Betrayal comes in many forms, but nothing cuts deeper than when it’s from someone you least expect.
I came for vengeance.
I start a war.
This is book 2 (Book 1 should be read first in order to understand book 2)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
QUESTIONS
ROGUE
Most women would run away now or throw a fit. Fuck that. Fuck her and fuck him.
It’s painful, but I’ll lick my wounds later when they can’t see the damage they’ve evoked.
“Hope you like how I taste,” I lie. It’s petty but gets the reaction I want. A spear of insinuation thrown across the room, stabbing her through the chest. Hurts, doesn’t it, swamp troll?
A thousand lies race to my mind to make him jealous with, but I won’t be that woman.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes, not sorrow, rage. Why mess with me if he was going to end up here with her?
Stupid. I’m so fucking stupid.
The walls close in around me, the windows to the fort I built in my head are shattering, shredding me with the pieces. I left the door open, and the devil walked straight in consuming and now destroying what was left of my already damaged heart.
Dammit, how could I let this happen?
“It’s not what you think,” Callan says, almost bored. He zips his fly and glances at me, then at Kitty, who’s seething, glaring at him with her arms crossed.
Isn’t that what they all say? “It’s not what you think.” Jackass.
“Then what is it?” Kitty asks the burning question that’s scorching through my brain like wildfire.
Georgina stands wearing only a towel. She curls her arm around Callan’s and strokes his shoulder in ownership.
Nausea stirs my guts as flames lick my anger.
Pinching his nose, he sighs. “She came in to clean up…”
I’ve been there. I’ve showered in his shower to clean up, and probably wore that same towel. I want to launch something at them both. Something heavy with sharp edges. Argh, I hate this. I need to escape.
“No one cares,” I lie. “Talk to your sister. She has questions you might actually answer. I’ll be at my motel when you’re ready to answer mine.” I scoff, giving Georgina one last look and forcing a smirk from my lips before turning to leave. If he wants to fuck poison, then let the venom take him out. I’m done. They can both kiss my ass.
“Rogue.” He says my name like a warning.
Fuck no, I will not heel at his boot. I spent too long being a doormat for Tyler. I won’t be one for him too. I’m not that girl anymore.
“Let her go, Callan. She doesn’t belong here anyway.” Georgina purrs.
Maybe she’s right. I don’t stick around to hear more, but their raised voices hum down the hallway as I depart. I’ve been stabbed with hot pokers and doused in acid. I need to sleep for a thousand years and forget I ever met the man whose road name now makes sense.
Pain.
He inflicts it with deadly precision.
The party has spilled outside. Laughter carries in the air while my insides rot. Fresh oxygen fills my lungs, helping to clear the alcohol fog. I desperately try to cling to my pride as I stroll up to the gates. They open for me to leave, and even though I’m choosing to go, I feel dejected all the same. This must be how club sluts feel the next day, used up and sent on their way. It sucks.
Tears I’ve been holding back drip down my cheeks. The cool breeze scatters goosebumps up my arms. I clutch them around myself to ward off the chill. The vast trees sway, whispering to the full moon. It’s so big, it’s almost intrusive in the night sky, a reminder of how small we all are. How fragile.
Thoughts manifest without permission, filling my head with visions of Callan with her, inside her—holding her—loving her. I could rip from my skin and howl at the moon like a fucking wolf. I don’t want to feel this way. I can’t take any more pain. I want to cut it out until I’m numb.
I don’t know how far away the motel is on foot, but I don’t stop moving. I pick up my pace until I’m jogging and then flat-out running, putting the club far behind me. Him behind me.
When I get to the closed road sign at the bottom of the road, I slow to a stop, gasping for breath as my muscles scream in protest of the impromptu cardio. My insides twist, and saliva floods my mouth. Acid burns a path up my throat, coating my tongue. Retching, I double over as sickness spills from my lips to the dirt at my feet. Gathering my hair into my fist, I purge everything inside my stomach until there's nothing left.
If only cleansing my heart was as easy.
My legs feel shaky when I begin walking again. There’s an ache throbbing across my ribs and my mouth tastes like I’ve been drinking toilet water.
Swiping another errant tear, I blow out a shaky breath. My reasons for going to the Kings got too clouded, and I allowed them to fill all the empty spaces inside me. How foolish I’ve been. Look where it’s left me? Alone in the dark, hurting.