A Cage of Crimson (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #5) Read Online K.F. Breene

Categories Genre: Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal Tags Authors: Series: Deliciously Dark Fairytales Series by K.F. Breene
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Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
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A flash of pain raced through his eyes, so fast I half wondered if I’d made it up. “Who else works for Granny apart from those within this village?” His voice shook, his anger threatening to break free. “You create the product, fine, but who packages it? Where are they?”

“I have no idea.”

“Don’t lie to me!” he shouted, startling me into action.

I bashed his face with my forehead before shifting my weight and swinging up my knee.

He barely flinched, taking my head’s blow in stride and almost lazily reaching down to stop my knee. He grabbed my shoulders and swung me around. I had the insane terror he’d bend me over the table and take me right then. The terror because I wanted it. Deep down to my core, I needed him in a way that wasn’t natural.

Instead, he shoved me, only hard enough to make me stagger away.

“If you want to fight, then fight.” He grabbed the edge of the table and flung it aside. It rolled across the ground and into the tent flap, a leg sticking out of the opening. He scattered the chairs next, leaving the space between us clear. “If you think that will somehow absolve you of your crimes, go for it.”

His obvious display of rage, of violence, was strange in that it didn’t terrify me as it should’ve. As Alexander would’ve. Deep inside, part of me trusted that he wouldn’t hurt me. That he wouldn’t treat me as Alexander had loved to do. It wasn’t rational given his people had killed Granny, but right now that didn’t seem to matter. Instead, his show of strength, of anger, incited me to heights I couldn’t contain.

My control shattered, my frustration spilling over.

“I’m not looking to be absolved of my crimes, you block-headed jackass!” I yelled at him. “I’m trying to make you understand your hypocrisy.”

I launched, throwing a punch. I hadn’t learned how to properly fist fight, but I’d been in enough scrapes when I was younger to have a clue. Besides, what did it matter? I already knew I couldn’t best him face-to-face. I could at least try to hurt him a little.

My fist connected and he let it, his hands at his sides, his chest rising and falling quickly. My wrist tweaked painfully; the man was made of bricks. I punched for his jugular, ready to dig my nails in and rip it out. He caught my wrist above the wound where the skin was already marked and raw.

I reached for his eyes, utterly without reason.

He caught that wrist as well, careful with the existing wound, and then spread my arms wider, pulling my chest toward his body. My peaked nipples scraped agonizingly through my thin clothes against his bare chest, sending sparks down to my core. His hard length pressed against my belly. I breathed heavily while looking up at him. His breath mingled with mine, his pupils dilating as he took me in. The air hung heavy around us, filled with anger and arousal. His grip was hard, and oh gods how I both loved and loathed being controlled and maneuvered. Being this close to him had my body at war with my mind.

“You’d be wise to pick your battles, Little Wolf,” he said, and a hot dagger twisted in my gut.

I wasn’t a wolf. I wasn’t anything. He had to have known since I couldn’t see in the dark. He was intentionally pouring salt in my wound.

I tried to head-butt him again, unwilling to give in despite the impossible odds. He twisted, catching my face in the crook of his neck, enveloping me in his scent.

My knees nearly went out from under me. My body melted toward him, my arms now using him for support. His grip tightened to keep me in place. I felt his hardness against my belly. Wetness made a mess of my undergarments. Anger made me irrational.

“I will kill you,” I said into his skin, his taste salty and warm, delicious. My lips lingered there, my core throbbing.

“You won’t get that chance,” he said softly, without moving—and I had no idea why. His body was tight against mine, his cock pulsing. “You’ll pay for your crimes, I will make sure of it.”

I bared my teeth and sank them into his flesh, blood filling my mouth. He sucked in a startled breath and I relished in it.

He jerked back and grabbed my throat, tearing me away from him. His eyes darkened menacingly. My newly freed hand swung down lifelessly, having not expected he would let it go. It slapped against his inner thigh. Brushed against his hard cock. Tore my last thread of sanity.

I grabbed his cock before I could stop myself. His hand slid to the back of my neck and he yanked me closer. His lips crashed down onto mine. His tongue delved deep, plunging. I groaned into his taste and stroked along his length, frenzied. His hands were at my clothes, pushing down my trousers and ripping off my top. He had me bared to him in moments, his lips leaving mine to trail down my neck. One hand ran down my chest to cup a breast.


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