Boneyard Tides (Aphotic Waters Duet #1) Read Online Amo Jones

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Aphotic Waters Duet Series by Amo Jones
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
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“Shit.” Slamming the window closed, I take slow steps backward, keeping my eyes on the barricaded windows. This isn’t what I thought when I asked about The Game. I thought maybe a trick. Or two. Truly, I was kind of hoping someone could tell me something new about this town that I didn’t already know.

The backs of my calves hit the edge of my bed and I jolt back. It doesn’t matter.

I fall onto the mattress, swallowing past the thick lump of fear that has formed in my throat. Cooper will find me. It will all be okay…

A sound crashes outside the room and I launch up from the bed, reaching for the lamp on the bedside table. I tear the cord out of the wall and hold it to my chest, squeezing the porcelain close. The locks jiggle against the wood, and I blow out a steady breath as the door slowly opens, and a dark figure appears on the other side.

“What do you want?” I yell, even though I can’t see who is there.

He’s tall, with broad shoulders, standing at least a foot taller than me.

Fear drags its talons down the base of my spine as he appears from behind the shadows. I was right about his shoulders and height, but that’s not the first thing I notice about him. His tight jaw, sunken cheekbones, and flawlessly smooth tanned skin. Dark brown hair is styled carefully, swooping to the back of his head and showcasing the tattoos that ripple over his scalp from the side of his neck. The tattoos aren’t demanding to be seen, or showy. Simply a cursive flick to an already beautiful calligraphy. His eyes are bright blue. The kind that remind me of the ocean as soon as a wave has dumped me, and his lips look too soft for the hard edges of his features.

“You done eye fucking me?” he asks, one brow curved upward.

I thought he was trying to joke with me, until I realize his features are frozen, his dark brows turning slightly downward.

“What?” I push the lamp onto the bed. There’s no point even holding the damn thing. I bet this dude could flick it away with his finger if I tried to throw it at him. “What are you doing with me?”

“Get up.” His finger curls, gesturing to the bed.

“No!” I snap, grinding my teeth. Despite the fact that I don’t know what day it is, I feel rested enough to spit a little fire. “I don’t want to play this game anymore. So if you could just take me home—and tell me where the fuck my clothes are…” My ranting trails off when my eyes rest on his. His mouth is in a flat line, his eyes heavy and bored. I’m boring him. “I want to leave.”

“Well, you’re not going anywhere.” He eats up the space between us, and before I can launch myself forward, he’s grabbing me around my upper arm.

“What the fuck!”

He’s a breath away from me, so close I can feel the hardness of his chest against my nipples. “Oh, this isn’t a game.”

Confusion fogs my brain, but I shake my head and watch as he goes back to my door and opens it wide.

“Get out of the room and follow me.”

“Wait…no. I thought—”

“You thought wrong. Now get the fuck out before I carry you out.”

I keep my eyes fixated on the side of his jaw, where two small beauty spots sit on either side. Two bright blue eyes slam into mine and I wince.

“Now, Shiloh. I don’t have fucking time for this bullshit.”

I could run, but where could I run to? My windows are barricaded, which means I’d hate to know what else is. He would also catch me. Could he? I mean, moving all that muscle must be hard. I’m one-forty. I wonder…

Adrenaline bolts into me as I take off. Before I can stop myself or second-guess what I’m doing or where I’m going, I’m running down the long hallway, ignoring all the doors that fly past me and portraits on the wall. The hall splits off into three directions. I skid to a halt, looking from left, to right, to straight ahead.

Fear snaps my spine as I turn over my shoulder, half-expecting him to be closing in on me, but he’s not. He’s leaning against the wall, his hand tucked into his pocket and his fingers flicking something metal between them.

“Go on, Poppet.” His eyes flash with blinding darkness. “Let’s see if those sexy legs can run as fast as they can spread…”

I jerk forward and zip through the left, shoving through a black curtain. My steps falter when I walk through a bedroom large enough to be two lounge spaces. Where the fuck are the stairs? There’s no bed, just lazy sofas, a bookshelf that’s built into the wall with an array of spines slipped into place, and a burning fireplace against the wall. Maybe an office? It’s lacking a desk.


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