Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
It doesn’t make any sense!
I clutched my head.
Stop it. Focus on the present, remember. The future does not matter. It can’t matter. Not when you have no control over it.
Breathing hard, my fingers slipped from my skull to my lap.
Whatever Elder’s end game was, I had to admit, he’d started something between us that terrified me. Whenever he was around, my insides twisted and liquefied. Mostly from intense awareness in case he snapped, but partly due to that damn kiss between us.
What had he done? How did he switch the frigid ice in my blood to a cosy fire?
I didn’t know, and as much as I tugged on teenage memories of chatting with girlfriends about which pop stars got us wet and what fantasies made us hot, I still struggled with hating sex.
I shouldn’t want sex.
I didn’t want sex.
But Elder…he was different.
I want him.
Not in the physical sense, but his disappearance the past few days had shown me I wanted to be near him. He terrified me, yes. But he terrified other people too, and while he was around, I was safe.
Aren’t I?
Am I safe?
Oh, my God. Stop.
Maybe I should’ve kissed him last night?
Perhaps, I should’ve closed the distance between us and took what he wouldn’t.
But why would you do that?
Because I’d treated him with suspicion and rage? I didn’t trust him or his word but it didn’t mean I shouldn’t apologise.
So your kiss would’ve been a charity?
Yes.
No.
Ugh, I don’t know.
It would’ve been a token of my gratitude. A kiss—no matter how chaste or half-hearted—was an agreement that I trusted him enough to get close, press my mouth to his, and let him hold me.
He could so easily have pulled my hair, forced me to speak—drowned me, for all he cared.
But he didn’t.
He’d held me safe with no pressure, even though his erection pressed against my belly, hard and throbbing with things I wasn’t strong enough to survive.
Unable to withstand my colliding thoughts, I whipped out the notepad and pen.
Dear No One,
Is this my life now? Riddled with questions and doubt?
I thought the moment I was away from Alrik, things would be easier, not harder—
A loud clunking noise wrenched my head up.
My heart donned her sneakers and took off sprinting. I dropped the pen as a lifetime of worry and self-preservation kicked in, expecting the worst. Whatever progress Elder had made with me was deleted with that one sharp bang.
Alrik’s face sprang into my head, laughing and cruel.
It took all my willpower to stay seated on my bed and not hurl myself to the floor and my knees.
It came again—clunk, clunk, clunk.
Clutching the sheet, doing my best not to slip into a panic attack, I glanced around the room. There was no tyrant ready to beat me, no werewolf in the shadows.
Wait…
I tilted my head.
I recognise that noise.
A chain.
The metal links clinked together in an awful remembered time when something similar was used to string me up. Only, this wasn’t a small chain but massive and lots of it.
The anchor maybe?
Climbing out of bed, I darted to the door only to notice I was naked (like normal) and not suitable for gallivanting around in investigation. Jogging back to the haven I’d just climbed from, I grabbed the sheet, not caring my unfinished note to No One scattered on the floor, and wrapped it around me.
Racing back to the exit, ensuring my temporary clothing covered the right places and didn’t flutter open, I charged down the corridor and up the flight of stairs rather than take the lift.
I’d been on Elder’s ship for over a week. In that time, I’d battled against recovery then given into it. Once I rested and ate correctly, my body had taken full advantage. The bruises were still there, only now more green moss rather than purple thunderstorm. My broken hand was still bound with a plastic cast and bandage that I’d replaced after my swim last night. However, I hadn’t tethered my ribs again, and a minor twinge let me know I probably should have.
My muscles had regained enough mobility to propel me upward—not just skin and bone anymore—but tentatively filling out as if afraid the slight curves would be punished for showing health.
I panted and puffed by the time I climbed onto the top deck and squinted in glorious early morning sunshine, but I didn’t collapse in a broken heap.
I was getting stronger every day.
Thanks to him.
As if thinking about him, Elder materialized, standing on the deck with a cup of coffee in his hands. He wore faded jeans with a white t-shirt and casual linen blazer slung over his shoulders.
My gaze drifted down to his feet where masculine toes were free thanks to thin black flip-flops.
He didn’t notice me. Or then again, maybe he did but enjoyed me staring at him as much as I enjoyed doing it.