Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
If I felt myself falling before, now I’m in the freefall where I know it’ll hurt soon. Every waking minute I’m thinking about him, about the way he looks at me, the things he says, the more profane the better, I’m thinking about how he makes me feel more myself and more present than I ever have in my life, especially when he’s fucking my brains out. I swear his dick is borderline addicting and the minute we’re alone together I can’t seem to keep my hands off of him.
This feeling I have for him is consuming me.
And I want nothing more than to be consumed by him.
Somewhere in the back of my lust-addled brain I know the only reason I’m with him at all is because I’m supposed to kill him and the others. But the longer this goes on, the more I realize how impossible that all is. I know my duties—I will get that book out of Saara and Aleksi’s hands, especially with the dangers that are roaming this city now, and I will kill the siblings as well—but I’m not going to let any harm come to Valtu, even by my own hand.
Last week, when we were laying in bed in the wee hours of the morning, he was asleep and I was running my hand over his chest, right over his steadily beating heart, and I couldn’t in a million years ever picture having the blade in my hands and stabbing it through him. Maybe that makes me weak or a bad witch, or maybe it’s foolish because I’m falling for him while wearing a disguise, so how far can this relationship between us really go? But it’s the truth.
I am his now and that also makes him mine.
Which is why it’s been painful these last few days not being able to be with him.
I finish my espresso, which was probably a bad idea this late in the afternoon, and I head to school. It’s my music history class with Valtu and the last one of the day for both of us. I’m hoping that if I linger after class, he’ll reach out and invite me over to his house.
But when class is over and I’m slow to get my things together, he doesn’t even look my way. I take a deep breath and approach his desk, wishing I didn’t have this hard knot in my stomach.
“Is your doctor friend gone?” I ask, trailing my finger along the edge of his desk.
“Hmmm?” he says distractedly, gathering up his stuff before looking up at me with a blank expression. “Oh, yes. He left yesterday.”
I stare at him expectantly, my brows up. “So if he’s gone…shouldn’t I be coming over?”
I feel a little foolish when I say it, feel even more so when he doesn’t say anything right away. Instead he gives me the kind of unsure smile that tells me I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says to me and that hard knot in my stomach turns to one of dread.
I have a hard time swallowing, my throat feeling thick. “What do you mean? Your friend is gone right? And we haven’t seen each other in a few days…”
His eyes dart to the door and back and I turn to look but there’s no one there.
“It’s just not a good idea, Dahlia,” he says, lowering his voice. “None of this is.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand,” I whisper. “You mean…”
“I mean the two of us together,” he snaps at me, his dark eyes looking wild. “It’s too dangerous.”
My heart feels like it stops beating. I don’t understand. “Dangerous? For who? Your job? We’ve been careful, we can be even more careful, I—”
“Stop,” he growls at me, his nostrils flaring. “Just stop. Look at me. Listen to me because I’m not going to tell you again.” He leans in close so I can see the red and gold in his brown eyes, their intensity paralyzing me and pinning me in place. “It’s over between us. We had a good run. We had some good fucks. But this shit doesn’t last forever. I’m done with you now, okay? So get that in your head and leave me the fuck alone.”
Then he strides off through the room and out the door, leaving me behind, feeling like I’ve been shot close-range with a shotgun.
I open my mouth to speak but only a ragged whine comes out and I press my hands to my stomach as if to stop the bleeding. I’ve lost it all in a second.
What the hell has gotten into him? He’s just…he just decided he’s done with me now? Just like that?
No. No, that can’t be. I don’t care if he told me to leave him the fuck alone, that can’t be.