Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
"No," Domani says, growling the word as if he's speaking a vow. "No one is going to kill you, mio sole."
"Then why…" I pause and lick my lips. His gaze follows the path of my tongue. "Why did you take me?"
"You don't belong in that place," he says as if that explains everything. It doesn't. Not even close. "What's your name?"
Should I lie to him? Probably. Do I? No.
"Finley Brennan."
"Finley," he repeats, rolling it around on his tongue. It sounds sinful on his lips. Like a kiss and a seductive promise. "I'm not going to hurt you, Finley. But I'm not going to let you go, either. You belong to me now."
There it is. The fire. The anger. A normal response to waking up in a stranger's bed after falling asleep in my own. Delayed, perhaps. But I'm not broken, after all. Anger rushes through me, filling me like a balloon.
"I belong to no one, Domani," I say, defiant. He may have kidnapped me, but that doesn't give him ownership over me. My uncle may be a lot of things, but he didn't raise a coward. I won't play along with this man or bow to him just because he says I should.
I may have spent most of my life locked away, but one thing my family has never been able to take from me was my own free will. I won't give it up for this man, either. I belong to no one. My soul is my own.
For some reason, my response amuses him. His lips quirk into a simile of a grin. He's a beautiful monster, hauntingly so. The darkness in his gaze is captivating. What has he seen and done that keeps him awake at night? Whatever it is, he wears it well, even if it eats at him.
"No?" He pushes away from the wall, stepping toward the bed. I refuse to flinch away, refuse to tremble in fear, or let this man think he scares me. My family may be afraid of him, but I won't be. I refuse. "Your soul was mine the second I stepped into your bedroom and saw you in your bed, Finley. If your uncle wanted to keep you, he never should have let a motherfucker like me get close to you." He crouches beside the bed, reaching toward me.
I lock my muscles, refusing to flinch or cower. Refusing to show fear.
His palm brushes over my right breast, and then he rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes locked on the sight. I shiver, my teeth clamped together to keep myself from moaning out loud. I shouldn't like the way it feels. I should hate the feel of his hands on me and the way he looks at me.
I don't. I hate that I don't hate it. Something in me responds to him, woman to man. It likes the feel of his hand on my body and the way he looks at me as if he can't stop himself. It likes the fact that he took me from that damnable place without permission and thinks he can own me.
I'm my own worst enemy. I know this. It's exactly why my uncle got away with keeping me locked away for so long. I should have been his worst nightmare. Instead, I was my own. I smiled and played along, letting them think I believed they were doing what they did for my own good, and every day, another piece of my soul died. And the whole time, I said nothing. I just smiled.
I knew what they were capable of doing. I witnessed them doing it over and over again. To other women. To the men they killed. They had no remorse. They have no souls. I did what I had to do to survive. But my soul? Well, I sacrificed more than my pride along the way.
Now, this man has me, he's touching me…and I should be fighting like hell. Instead, I'm reveling in the first human touch I've felt in years. It's fucked up. And I love it.
What's that they say about broken people? Oh, right. They can't be put back together again. No matter how much glue you use, the cracks and crevices remain. I guess that's me now. Broken beyond repair.
At least I'm in good company. Because if anyone understands what that's like, I think it might be this man.
"You will be mine in every way, mio sole. You can fight it. You can hate me. In the end, the pieces will align the same way." His gaze flits across my face. "You'll have my ring on your finger, and I'll kill anyone who even thinks about trying to take you."
"My uncle? My cousins?"
"Anyone," he snarls.
"Good," I whisper, arching into his touch. "I hope you make it hurt."