Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 144760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
I’d offered to cook. I’d braced myself for permission to harvest a few veggies to make something decent to fill our empty stomachs. His eyes had narrowed, hinting he might have forgotten about our bath, but he hadn’t forgotten my lack of rationing or respect when it came to survival.
He’d stormed outside without a word.
He’d returned with a few carrots, a couple of potatoes, and grabbed half the cabbage that was left in the fridge.
I’d kept him company while he sliced the produce, grabbed a big pot, and placed all of it on the stove. The entire time he’d cooked, I’d stood quietly beside him. I couldn’t stop watching how capable he was, how familiar with the chore of feeding himself.
It didn’t matter that he was so capable at cooking because he didn’t have a choice. He’d wanted to survive. Therefore, he’d had to learn how. He’d had no one else. No help gathering firewood, no help cleaning this giant place, no one to turn to at night when his dreams wrenched him awake with torment.
Hadn’t I wanted a man who didn’t rely on a woman to keep him alive? A man who wasn’t afraid to do what was necessary?
I’d shivered with desire as his strong hands wielded knives and dishes. I’d sunk into a strange kind of awe, my chest swelling with a total sense of domestic contentedness.
Kassen Sands was literally everything I’d written on that internet dating profile. He was rugged and masculine but was also skilled at making a life out of nothing and no one. He was aggressive and possessive, but beneath the tangled vines of his past, he was caring and kind.
I had no doubt, if he could open himself up to me, without his nightmares and concussion snatching him back, he would be loving, protective, and sweet.
Yes, sweet.
One hundred percent, he’d be the sweetest, kindest man I’d ever met.
I’d almost swooned in the kitchen while he was completely unaware of my further tripping into feelings. I’d itched with an almost manic desperation to make him see me. To help break him free and talk because if I could—if I could show him how to be happy—he would be my best friend, life partner, and soul mate.
And that’d hurt.
Watching him cook with his jaw clenched as if to stop himself from talking to me and his body language stiff and threatening, I’d made a promise not to push. Not to ask the many, many questions I had. Not to rattle off about my own life, wanting him to know me in return.
I’d let silence cushion the strained connection between us as he tipped water into the well-cooked veggies and smashed it all together, forming a hearty soup, working as fast as he could in case the power went out.
When he’d handed me a bowl full of delicious, comforting food, I’d wanted to throw my arms around him. To kiss him. To show him just how grateful I was, regardless of how agonizing it’d been in the garden. How much my body still wanted his, an orgasm still unfinished, my skin humming to connect again.
Having the man I was in love with suddenly vanish right before my eyes was a gut-wrenching experience. His cock still inside me, his arms still holding me close, yet nothing in his stare. No recognition. No emotion. Just emptiness, followed by him staggering away from me, dropping me to my feet, and our bodies being torn apart, all thanks to his splintered mind.
Giving me a small smile, Kas had led me out of the kitchen to the dining room.
It’d felt strange eating at the large table still set for a party of monsters. The polished knives and forks glinted, placemats with their leather and ribbon were pristine.
There’d been no salt or pepper, no butter or other condiments to increase the flavor of the basic soup he’d made, but it’d been the best meal I’d had since arriving here. Mainly because Kas ate with me, silent and wary, but at least he stayed by my side.
Eating our meal in the extravagant dining room had allowed my mind to run wild with ghosts of the past. I studied the empty walls where mirrors used to sit, ready to refract the light cast by a few bulbs that hadn’t burned out in the chandelier above the table. Light bounced off the crystal bumblebee napkin holders, and the scent of bygone dinners seemed to swirl around us.
It truly was a decadent mansion; if only it hadn’t kept children trapped and allowed such sick monstrosities to take place.
Kas finished his dinner before me. He’d swooped to his feet, bowed stiffly, and spoke more words than he had all day. “Thank you for your help...with the wood.” He raked a hand through his unruly, long hair, keeping his eyes anywhere but on mine. I hated that he’d pulled away again. I wanted to go back to the garden where something had built inside him. Something had unfurled between us. A decision had been made in his heart.