Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“You were rather calm walking in here, little red,” he says, his voice taking on the tone of a commanding officer speaking to a soldier readying himself for the front line. “And for a moment, I thought you were finally coming to terms with the wedding. I thought” — he pauses for a moment before continuing — “that you were willing to be my wife, allowing me to finally claim you.”
His words incite anger through me. A spark igniting the kindling in my gut, causing me to tug away from him, shoving my chair back against the cool, marble tiles. The clatter of cutlery on the table bounces against the walls, echoing in a poignant warning.
“You’re the rogue in this story, Lycan Shaw,” I point out. “Being kidnapped by a man doesn’t make me want to fall in love with him. It doesn’t even make me want to try.” My plan is in the gutter. I should’ve ignored his jeer, but my stubbornness wouldn’t allow it.
“I never said anything about love,” he comments, folding his arms across his chest, making his shoulders seem even larger with bunched-up muscles. Strength and dominance are what this man wears, like a goddamned cologne. “Sit.”
“No.”
Lycan’s hand's fist on the table. His jaw ticks with frustration as his usually jade irises turn almost black as he regards me. “Scarlett, you must mistake me for a man who doesn’t mind the word no,” he speaks slowly, clearly, and every word is drenched in barely constrained anger. “When I give you an order, you will obey me without question, without sass, and most certainly without that stubborn demeanor you insist on portraying.”
He doesn’t rise. He sits, still, very fucking still. He reminds me of a predator, lying in wait for the prey to run, because a man like Lycan Shaw enjoys the chase. I can see it glimmer in his stare. The way he’s taking in my posture, my stance, he can tell I’m about to bolt out of this room.
“Run.” Lycan jerks his chin toward the door just as his lashes flutter with excitement dancing in those dark depths. “I like the chase.” His tone drops to almost a whisper, one that’s heavy with desire and laced with a threat. One that tells me he will catch me, and I may not like what he does then.
Without another thought, my feet move, and I’m racing toward the patio door, which is ajar, instead of the door leading into the rest of the house. The night breeze hits me as I step out onto the cobbled patio, and my heels click onto the stone, but I focus on the garden. My mind flits through my options, and I quickly make my way deeper into the darkness and away from the house.
“I know this property very well, little red,” Lycan warns in amusement and condescension. For a moment, I hate him with a fiery passion, and I want nothing more than to turn around and slam my fist into his face. But I know that won’t do anything but hurt me.
My legs carry me out onto the lawn, and I’m thankful my heels aren’t sinking into the ground. It’s firm, allowing me to run faster than I anticipated. Instinct has me wanting to turn around, but I don’t. Instead, I wonder how I can get off his property. Going into the woods isn’t an option, so perhaps I can find somewhere to hide.
Heavy footfalls follow me. Even though I’m not faster than he is, he doesn’t come near me yet. My heart catapults into my throat when I hear a howl from deep in the woods. There’s nothing but darkness ahead, so I turn to my left and race toward the pool house. If I can get around it, perhaps I can hide somewhere. Maybe there’s a shed hidden in the shadows.
But by the time I slink behind the large structure, my lungs are struggling to pull in air. My hands are shaking as I feel my way around the wall, smooth concrete against my palm. With every minuscule step I take, tension radiates through me. Leaning against the wall, I close my eyes and attempt to focus my hearing on the man following me.
Even though I don’t hear him running or even walking, it doesn’t mean he’s not near me. I’m almost certain he’s close, and that means I have to find somewhere to disappear. Straight ahead leads to more of the backyard, with what looks like wooden poles sticking up from the ground. I should’ve explored outside earlier, but stupidly, I thought I could do this.
I thought I was strong.
My heart cracks at the thought of me losing my life because of my immature thoughts. A scraping sound startles me, and I almost scream into the night, but my hand shoots out to cover my mouth, and I shut my eyes so tight, hoping that it was all just my imagination. Even though I know it wasn’t.