Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
If I was successful, then Cristian would not be in my life; I’d never see him again. That was the goal. But it also created a sour pit in my stomach, an overwhelming sense of dread looming over my future.
“Right,” Cristian said after a few beats.
“Right?” I repeated.
“You are right. I can’t do anything from across an ocean.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. But I was talking to dead air.
Cristian had hung up on me.
Most of my life, I tried to avoid becoming a cliché. About my upbringing, the color of my hair, my gender... I worked hard to defy those clichés. And for the most part, I’d succeeded.
Yet here I was, drinking wine—I’d acquired quite a taste for it—eating imported chocolate, listening to bullshit music and ruminating over what a fucking mess I’d made of my life.
Because of the bullshit music blaring, I didn’t hear him come in. Didn’t notice him watching me. Not for a long while. It wasn’t until he stepped into my line of sight that I saw him.
And when I saw him, I jumped, spilling wine all over my sweatpants and fumbling for the stereo remote to turn down the music.
Cristian approached me as I stood, flustered. His face was hard, determined.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to finger brush my hair and check my reflection for any rogue chocolate stains. Though he’d seen me naked, had thrown me over his knee and spanked me, had watched me sleep, Cristian had not seen me unkept and ... weak like this.
I hated it. I didn’t have any shields. I was exposed to him. Completely.
“What made you sound like that on the phone?” he demanded, not staring at my outfit or the new wine stains but locked on my eyes.
I straightened my back, jutting my chin up. “Why do you care?”
Cristian didn’t answer me, he just stood there, staring. He knew I was weakened now, that I was scrambling for my defenses, that I wouldn’t be comfortable under his gaze, in his silence.
“Why do you care, Cristian?” I repeated, my voice louder now.
“I don’t know!” he roared.
I recoiled, unable to control the motion as I’d never heard Cristian raise his voice. Not once. It seemed I was not the only one unnerved here.
The three words echoed through the room, bursting with emotion I hadn’t known the man was capable of.
Cristian started to pace, his energy chaotic, like that of a caged animal.
“This was not meant to turn out this way,” he hissed, turning to me. “I wasn’t supposed to care about you.” His eyes burned into me with accusation. Like it was my fault.
Cristian surged toward me, and though I never had before, I scuttled back in retreat, truly afraid of him now that he’d admitted what he thought of me out loud.
He didn’t stop when he saw my fear. No, his eyes flared again. He caught me. Of course, he caught me, one hand at my hip, the other at my neck.
“You’ve ruined everything,” he grumbled. “You’ve made me weak. I dropped fucking everything to fly back to you so I could punish whoever hurt you. Whoever dared puncture my queen’s skin.” His hand moved to brush my cheek where the tears had long dried. “You will be my ruin, Sienna.”
Then he yanked my head forward so our lips crashed together. We tore at each other like animals, lips moving furiously, only detaching briefly so we could rip at each other’s clothing, not stopping until we were both naked, music playing softly around us.
Halsey’s “Nightmare” surrounded us as Cristian laid me down on the floor, surging inside with the ferocity of a madman. I wrapped my arms around him, sunk my nails into his skin, tearing at it until his blood covered my fingertips. Until my scars marked the ink belonging to another woman.
We were a nightmare.
And I hoped I never woke up.
“Tell me what got you into that state,” Cristian demanded.
We were in his bedroom. He’d carried me up here hours ago, leaving me only to get a plate of food for us to pick at in bed. My body ached. My fingertips were still stained with his blood.
I shifted so I could regard him. His eyes were frosty yet they weren’t empty. I knew that now. Just how full he was of this. Of us.
Of me.
“Why?” I asked. “So you can kill whoever’s responsible?”
He rubbed at the stubble shadowing his jaw. “If you want them dead, I will kill them, yes. Otherwise, I’m just curious.” My heart squeezed when he brushed hair from my face. The gesture was remarkably tender. “Do you want me to kill someone?”
I considered his question for a split second. Some part of me would be satisfied if Diana died, to wield power like that. But no. That was nothing short of madness.