Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I can’t. I’m in complete shock. I’m one step from peeing my pants.
One moment, we’re standing in the middle of the street, my heart pounding uncontrollably, those eyes gripping mine. The next moment, we’re in a room filled with mirrors. They’re everywhere.
On the walls, suspended in air, hanging from the ceiling. It’s a large circular room, making the mirrors appear more vast, or maybe the mirrors are causing the room to seem larger than it is. The ones hanging from the ceiling look as if they are floating on their own, almost like suspended art. Different shapes and sizes make up the whole. It’s enchanting.
So much so that I forget we’ve just arrived here from the dark, secluded streets I’ve been running on. When it all comes back to me, I gasp and turn back to the one who brought me here. My heart is thundering again, and it has nothing to do with how beautiful the man before me is.
His eyes are no longer gold. They’re a dark-chocolate brown, almost black. However, as I look more closely, it seems like a flame still flickers in their depths. I’m drawn to him. That small flicker is tugging me in. My heart feels like it’s trying to jump from my body into his.
“You feel it?” he says, his brows drawing into a tight crease.
It is then I note the two piercings side by side in his right brow. They don’t take away from his handsome face. They’re more like enhancements to beautiful art.
“Yes,” I reply, licking my lips.
“How is this?” he murmurs, lifting a hand to run his finger down the side of my cheek in a slow caress. My skin feels like someone has placed a torch next to it. “What is your name?”
“Ray,” I reply without thinking.
He stumbles back. The gold flames in his eyes return. I should be startled, but I’m in complete awe. This man…being, seems to have power rolling off him. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’ve seen some weird stuff in my life.
His face becomes angry as he trembles with rage. Seeing this, I do take a step back. I look around quickly for an escape, but there is none.
“Ray Ricci? You are Ray Ricci?”
His voice thunders through the room, shaking the mirrors and perhaps even the floors. I’m too terrified to know if the shaking beneath me is from my knees knocking or the vibration of his rumbling roar. I clench my fists at my sides; I’m determined not to faint.
“Ye… yes. It’s Ray Ann, actually.” I nod jerkily.
“How?” He bellows.
“Well, my birth mom and my dad got together one night about thirty years ago and—”
“Enough. I do not have time for these games,” he snaps, oddly causing my belly to flip.
I’m so not into older guys, but something about this guy has me leaning toward him even when I should be running away. It’s more than the good looks and power oozing from him. It’s the sheer mystery that his presence paints.
My mind tries to catch what it is about him that’s familiar as well as intriguing. It’s as if I know him. Yet I’ve never met a man who displays such elegance, culture, refinement, wisdom, and so much more—all within a glance.
Mind you, he’s wearing a T-shirt and a cut. Not distinguished attire at all. Jeans, bike chains and heavy black boots complete the look. Yet he gives off a regal air.
“We’ve always called your family the dark Italians. Yes, but you are the color of umber, warm like the purest earth. I’ve walked sand and land that could never compare to the richness of your skin or the glow that comes from it.” He shakes his head as if to clear it.
“You have your father’s face, his blood. I can see him within you. I can feel it, but this should not be. What have they done?”
His last words come out as if he’s lost. Slowly, he begins to move back toward me. When my brain kicks in, I tell my feet to move me back. He shoots his hand out and clasps the back of my neck, drawing me into him.
He fists his fingers into my hair, tilting my head back. My nostrils flare and I ready myself for a fight. I glare at him. He turns his lips up into a smile.
“You have fire in you, but your heart is not wicked.” He closes his eyes and sniffs the air around me. “How is this? It can’t be.”
He opens his eyes again and they’re consumed by flames. I inhale sharply when our feet begin to leave the ground. I’m not sure if I see anger or desire in his gaze.
“Wha… what’s happening?” I swallow hard.
We’re floating high above the room, just inches from the mirrored ceiling. I chant in my head to not look down. I shouldn’t look up either, for that matter. The reflection will only amplify how high we are.