Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
I’d fracture this beautiful woman because I could. Because I had to. Because she already had too much power over me.
And I’d vowed to myself years ago, that no one would have that ever again.
Piper
Despite the situation, my gnawing hunger and my overwrought nervous system, I slept like the dead.
Clearly, my body’s exhaustion trumped my mind’s turmoil. For one night anyway. How I could shut down and be vulnerable and unconscious in the same room as the bastard sitting on the couch was beyond me.
Survival.
My body was wired to do that. And in order to survive, I needed strength. I needed sustenance.
One cursory glance in the small fridge and freezer showed me it was packed to the gills with meat, butter and a handful of vegetables. Same with the small pantry. Some bread, grains, but very little.
The next morning, I’d mindfully chewed on the bread and an apple. Somehow, he’d known. He’d known that I didn’t eat meat, ensuring that I would have barely enough food to keep me alive, let alone strong enough to fight back.
It was chilling, to be under the same roof as someone who was purely there to break my will. To batter me so completely that I would ‘willingly’ marry a monster. Stone could’ve easily forced me with a gun aimed point-blank to my sister’s head. I would’ve done it too. To protect Daisy. It would’ve been a fuck of a lot simpler than all of this.
Although he was a criminal piece of shit, he somehow considered himself civilized. His ego wouldn’t allow him to simply force me to marry him. He wanted to bring about the illusion of consent, whether that was for appearances or for his own warped mind, I didn’t know.
My hunger wasn’t sated by my meager breakfast, but it sufficed for the moment. I had to ration. It was all I had for the foreseeable future, and I was entirely dependent on Knox for all of my sustenance and safety.
A sobering and horrifying thought.
That’s what had me putting on my running gear in the bathroom—while Knox was presumably sleeping on the sofa. I didn’t look too closely at the large, prone form.
Although I was tempted. Sleep seemed like an impossible bodily function for him. Sleep left you too vulnerable.
There was nothing vulnerable about this man. Nothing soft, human. Nothing to cut into.
Not that I would. I’d eyed the unused steak knife he’d put in front of me at the table for about 2.5 seconds. Stabbing someone with a steak knife would do little. Unless by miracle you hit an artery or were willing to continuously stab. And that’s on someone who wasn’t fighting back.
Knox wouldn’t need to fight back. He was watching me so carefully, I’d have the knife out of my hand before it was even halfway through the air.
And even if by some miracle I did kill or incapacitate him… Then what? There was nowhere to run to.
I doubted that Knox did anything without a lot of thought. The meat. The sharp axe. All of it was a taunt. That he could give me a weapon on a silver platter, yet I was unable to use it. Even if I had the stomach for it, I couldn’t fight him, kill him.
On that thought, I shoved on my running shoes—purposely not looking in the direction of the sofa in case he was awake and watching me—then crept out the door.
I couldn’t kill him.
But I could run.
I felt him in the woods around me before I saw him. A slash of black against the crisp-green foliage and trees. A yawning black hole of death amidst the glorious life of the mountains.
He wasn’t wearing a suit. He’d abandoned that like a snake shedding its skin.
But he was still clad in black. A form-fitting sweatshirt, even though the morning was unseasonably warm. I’d shed my layers immediately, the long-sleeved tee I’d donned tied in a tight knot around my waist leaving me in only a sports bra.
His long pants were expensive, practical and spotless. Same with the black boots. He wore them well, even if I had the inkling this was the first time he’d worn gear like it.
The inky curtain of his hair was messier today, as if he’d been running his hands through it, falling across his face and highlighting his flawless, ivory skin. His eyes were dark and predatory as I came to a stop, raking over every inch of me.
I’d previously been sweating, flushed from the exertion of running on uneven terrain without the appropriate amount of fuel in my body.
My throat closed up with his attention on my bare skin. A flashback to when we first met. Was it really only yesterday when I’d been running through Central Park?
Like I had then, I resisted the urge to cover myself up, to protect my exposed skin from his gaze.