Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
“This is Bryant Royal.”
Jesus, now he’s getting Alzheimer’s.
“I know, Dad. I met him at the charity thing a couple nights ago.” I take another long—very, very long— gulp of my wine.
My dad brushes off my response. “He’s the reason why we’re throwing this party, Isa, pay attention.” Wait. Pay attention? Is he joking, I haven’t missed anything at all.
“Sorry.” I am not sorry. Bringing my hands to my mouth, I swipe at the small drop of champagne that fell onto my lip, and I’m just about to end my sentence with something sarcastic, when I again, remember where I am. I really, really, hate these fucking things. Tilting my head, I humor them both. “And why is he throwing this party here?”
“Because he’s just made a large settlement, and it’s here because I offered.” My father looks to my wine glass. “How many have you had?” ‘Large settlement’ I have learned, is code for ‘this-is-something-important-that-little-people-won’t-understand,’ and I’m cool with this, because I really, really don’t care.
“Not enough.” There’s a slight snap in my undertone when I reply before I finally let my eyes rest on Bryant. “Congratulations on your…settlement.” Whatever the fuck that means. “Excuse me,” I murmur, side-stepping away from Bryant and moving to the other side of the tent to raid the buffet. I can’t pass up free food. Piling small finger food onto my napkin, it’s not long before someone clears their throat from behind me.
I crank my head over my shoulder slightly, a grin tickling my lips when I see who it is. “Yes? Can I help you?”
Bryant steps closer to me, his hands going into his pockets. He narrows his eyes. “Yeah, actually, you could.”
“Oh?” I pop a grape into my mouth. “Do go on, your highness.”
His eye twitches, but he keeps glaring at me, and it feels like hot fire searing through the glacial glades of the Antarctic. I’m not sure how that would feel, but I’m guessing it would be this. His razor-sharp angular jaw clenches before his dark eyes find mine quickly. “You’re going to do me a favor.”
I chuckle, turning my back to him and snatching another bunch of grapes. “Why on earth would I do you a favor?”
I feel him before I see him. His hard chest slightly presses against my back, enough to light up everything that is in the direction of south, but then his breath falls on the nape of my neck and his strong hands grip around the curve of where my waist sinks in, and I find my thighs clenching together. “Because I have something you want.” He shoves me into his groin. Not enough to alert passersby, just enough force to tell me he’s not playing around.
My eyes slowly close and my head tilts to the side softly, stupidly asking for his touch. “And what might that be?” It comes out as a small whisper. Damn it. Would I sleep with him? Hell. I’m pretty sure I’ve woken up to worse.
“They should call me wolf...” My eyes snap open and a light panic begins to pulse deep under my flesh. There’s no way. I would remember him—I would surely remember. Though, I don’t remember much of those days.
Tensing, I spin around to face him again, my eyes burning with so much intensity I hope he shrivels in his very spot. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Fuck. Please. Please let this be some bullshit game. He’s bluffing, he’s gotta be.
Bryant cracks his neck, a devious grin pulling across his mouth. He smiles politely at a passerby, before bringing his attention back to me. “Summer 2012. That night ring a bell to you?”
My chest contracts. Fucking contracts like a woman’s uterus right before she’s about to birth a fucking ten pounder. I look down to the floor, trying to do the math, but the swirly patterns that are encrypted into the soft plush rug all begin to blur and the room…holy mother of shit, the room begins to spin slightly.
Gripping onto the corner of the table to stop me from falling, I whisper out, “Wh-at? This—this doesn’t make any sense.”
Shrugging, he swallows the rest of his wine in one smooth movement, his Adam’s apple bobbing softly and his lips glistening from the wine that had slid over them. Placing his empty glass back on the table, he brings his bleak eyes back to mine. “Yeah, that was me. Amongst the others, if you remember anything at all, that is… So here’s the deal…”
I flinch back my tears. I am strong. I am wild. I am a survivor.
I think.
Fuck. Are you still a survivor if you can’t remember the darkest part of your memories? Or does that make you a coward by nature, that even when you don’t realize it, your body is spinelessly burying shit that it knows you couldn’t handle. But even so, all the hard work I put into forgetting that night, forgetting what I’d done and how bad I had gotten, it all meant shit now because all it took was for him to say one little word, one word—Wolf—and all feelings, all the hurt and pain I felt was beginning to all come back tenfold. I bring my cold eyes up to his, a new-found hate, a hate so strong it overpowers my legs wanting to wrap themselves around him. “What?” I snap, grinding my teeth together. “What do you want.”