Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to remind me what you are.” His dark gaze cast over me from head to toe. “I’m fully aware of your sex and species.”
“Then why won’t you treat me as one?”
A sudden cold laugh fell from his lips. “You think being human automatically grants you shelter, food, and comfort?”
“Don’t forget safety.” I sniffed. “Safety from illness, pain...injury.”
He smiled just as evil as his laugh. “Safety is not a right, girl. Safety is an illusion.”
“Safety is what you promised me if I did what you asked.”
His mouth bracketed with anger, grooving his skin and highlighting his scruff. “And you haven’t done what I asked.” His brows dipped, shadowing his gaze even more. “At least, not today.”
My stomach flipped.
Bastard.
“And I won’t do what you ask until you move me to a better prison.” I shivered against my will but added a cough with sly intentions. “I’m getting sick. I’ll die of pneumonia down here.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Eat your food.”
“No.”
“You’ll do what I command. And after, once your rumbling belly is full...I’ll think of something else you can do.” His gaze once again lingered on my breasts.
My traitorous nipples pebbled beneath my borrowed clothes.
Instinct told me to look away, to barricade myself from his thinly veiled threat, but I couldn’t stop watching him.
I watched him watching me.
I wanted to memorize his face, so I never forgot the man who’d trapped me, belittled me, and abused. I would find some way to punish him.
I will.
As long as I knew his face, I would track him down and ensure pain for my pain, despair for my despair. I didn’t even need to know his name.
Dipping his bread into the honey, he took a controlled bite. “If you behave and do what I ask, you’ll survive another day.”
I gave him the finger. “If this is my life, why would I want to survive another day? If you’re going to keep me down in the darkness, why the hell would I be nice to you?”
He stilled. His fingers wrapped around the bread until it broke into crumbs and scattered over the damp floor. “Are you forgetting who’s the guilty party in this mess?”
I kept my head high. “You. You are. You’re holding me prisoner.”
He glowered and discarded the crushed bread for his peach. He bit into it. Juice glistened on his lips as he licked them slowly. “I’m not going to repeat our circumstances. I’m not going to repeat how you were the one to enter without permission. You’re the one forcing me to gather double the food and fuel necessary for a long winter. You’re the one who’s demanding things of me I don’t have the capacity to give. You.” He pointed the dripping peach in my direction. “You’re the guilty one. All I’m trying to do is protect myself. I can’t let you go because you’ll talk. I can’t seem to kill you until I’ve had my fill. Whatever I do to you is entirely my right because you upended my world. You’ve ruined everything.”
He massaged his temples and shook his head as if scattering painful thoughts. Inhaling hard, he snapped, “If I can be nice enough to provide for you—all when I had no intention of ever sharing my home again—the least you can do is quit your fucking complaining, eat your goddamn food, and agree to do whatever I ask.”
I sucked in a breath.
It was the most he’d ever spoken to me. His voice shaking off the cobwebs of silence. His fury was a tangible thing, snaking through the air, caressing my arms, running hot fingers through my hair.
Tension crackled between us the longer we stayed locked in a stare. His body stiffened, coiling with power as if he were two heartbeats away from launching himself at me.
He was hard, tenting his slacks with obvious arousal.
His face once again held no masks or pretends. He was angry—almost as angry as I was. He was horny—a constant state for him, it seemed. And he was...sorry.
I gasped at the naked apology buried deep within his eyes.
He feels sorry for what he’s doing?
My lungs filled with fight. “Stop doing this. I see your guilt. If you feel sorry for the way you’re treating me, then—”
“Quiet,” he hissed. “I feel nothing.”
“You feel something.” I dropped my stare to his erection. “If you want me as badly as you seem to, then be nice to me. You can choose to be my friend instead of my enemy.”
He laughed—a tattered noise that sounded as if it’d been wrenched from bleeding memories. “I don’t have friends.”
“Did you hurt them?” I spread my arms wide at the empty mansion. The ivy-covered palace hidden deep within a valley. “Is that why no one lives with you? You killed any friends and family like you keep threatening to do with me?”