Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
When he left me upstairs, hands shaking, holding his gun, I feared the intruder—worried that something would happen to Bryce. I was shocked at how much the idea of him being harmed agitated me. After what felt like an eternity of breaking glass and screams of terror, there was a knock on the door. It was Bryce demanding I get dressed because we were leaving.
There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but the blood covering his body twisted the words on the tip of my tongue and held me silent.
When I didn’t move, instead of yelling, which was what I expected, he rushed to me, falling on his knees. His large hand wrapped around mine, and he removed the gun. Then he framed my face with bloodstained hands, forcing my gaze to his. “We have to go. It’s not safe here.”
I didn’t react. I didn’t know what to do.
“Isla, I need you to pull yourself together. I’ll answer all your questions once we’re in a safe location. Can you be a good girl and pull yourself together for me?”
I nodded like a robot. We flew toward the front door, and that was when I saw the bloodied and battered body slumped over his aquarium. Through the crimson water, I viewed the half-eaten head of a man staring back at me with the eyeball still attached to its socket.
In the darkness, with the vision of the horror before me, Bryce brushed his mouth by the shell of my ear and whispered. “I am a monster, Isla. But I’m a monster that will never harm you.”
The drive was silent, my gaze on the mountains and trees and Bryce’s on me.
“You’ll be safe here. I need to figure out what all that was about in my apartment. I have a good idea, but I can’t focus on the search and your safety.”
I nod. “I’ve been held in one prison or another my whole life. What's one more?”
Chapter Twelve
ISLA
We’ve been at the cabin for three days. At first, I wanted to run fast and far, but that didn’t last long. Bryce is kind, thoughtful, and considerate. Unlike the previous men in my life, he’s made no demands of me—quite the opposite. I’m not used to someone asking me what I think or feel. But I can’t get the image of what he did to that guy in his apartment out of my head. It’s as if he has two sides, one sweet and caring and the other completely deranged.
“You still with me, Isla?” Bryce’s voice breaks across my thoughts and brings me back to the here and now.
I realize I’ve been standing in the kitchen, staring into space. “Parts of me.”
Bryce steps closer. “Which parts?”
“Physically, I’m here, but I can’t get the image of that guy out of my head. You didn’t just kill him. You tortured him in a very creative way.”
“That man wanted to kill me and do God knows what to you. He deserved nothing less than he got.”
“But why the torture?”
Bryce’s magnetic eyes tug at me. The left side of his mouth tilts up, and he shrugs. “It was the fun part.”
“Fun? What you did to him was straight out of a horror movie, and you think it was fun?”
“I’ve only ever enjoyed three things, Isla. The game, fucking, and making my enemies pray for a quick death. I’ve been out of the game for almost a decade, so it seems fitting to get my rocks off by letting my fish gut that motherfucker.”
Before I can stop myself, I ask, “What about the other thing?”
Bryce smiles and takes a step forward. “What other thing?”
My throat is tight as if an invisible rock is lodged there, a hand wrapped around my vocal cords, making it impossible to utter a word. My eyes catch Bryce’s, and I’m trapped, forced into an imaginary cage, haunted by his soulful, tortured gaze.
He takes another step forward until the hard ridges of his body are pressed against mine. I swear, if it was possible, I could orgasm on the spot simply from the heat in his eyes.
He lifts a hand and brushes my hair behind my ear. “What other thing, Isla?”
My eyes shut, and I whisper, “Sex.”
“Open your eyes, Isla,” Bryce demands.
I obey, not out of fear but something else, something I can’t name.
He moves, pressing his forehead to mine. “Thing is, sweet Isla, since meeting you, the only sex I want is with someone who’s not ready. Yet.”
“I told you, I’m not a prostitute.”
“And I don’t pay for sex. But one day, Isla, every part of you will beg me to make you scream my name.”
Chapter Thirteen
BRYCE
I understand that I’m a no-good piece of shit. It’s morally taboo to crave your son’s girlfriend the way I do. But the moment she walked into my apartment on my son’s arm, jealousy I’d never known before burned red hot.