Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
He lets out an acidic laugh at that. “Who do you think you are?”
“Professor Ichabod Crane,” I say with a smile.
His eyes narrow. “Right. And I’ve known Kat my whole life. You’ve known her, what? A month?”
“You were gone for the last four years,” I say sharply.
“You know, no you saw what happened to me!” he exclaims. “I had to leave!”
“And what did you do while you were gone? Tell me, Abe. Tell me. You were with me, my cock buried in that exquisite ass of yours, taking whatever I decided to give you.”
His nostrils flare at that, eyes dancing wildly. “Fuck you.”
“Uh uh.” I give him a quick smile, smacking his shoulder with the straps. “I believe I was the one fucking you.”
That’s just enough gasoline on the fire.
He lets out a roar and comes at me, teeth bared, hands open and I duck him in the nick of time, swinging up behind him and grabbing the reins, giving them a hard yank so that they almost break. His hands fly up to his throat and I quickly yank back again, enough that he falls flat on his back, the room shaking.
I don’t have time to worry if any of the teachers on this floor felt that, instead I’m getting down on the ground and taking advantage of the fact that he’s got the wind knocked out of him. I flip the heavy weight of him over onto his stomach as he coughs from the damage I just inflicted to his windpipe.
I work quickly, tying his hands together behind his back with the hobbling straps and then do the same to his ankles before I straddle him so my cock is pressed against his ass.
“Here I was thinking I was out of practice,” I tell him, bringing my hand down sharply against his rear until he jolts. “Guess all those years hog-tying the neighbor’s calves did some good.”
“Go to hell,” he wheezes.
“And join you there? Don’t mind if I do.”
Chapter 2
Brom
Rage.
White hot rage blinds me.
I attempt to fight against Crane. But the bastard is tall and heavy and I’m still trying to breathe after landing flat on my back. The pain in my shoulder returns with a vengeance, making me see spots.
The son of a bitch just laughs and I’m tied on the ground like a fucking animal.
On top of the fact that he fucking shot me.
“You know how this works,” Crane coos at me, a hand ghosting down the middle of my back.
I don’t want him touching me. I don’t want him near me.
I try to buck myself off the ground and knock him off but his thighs grip me tight and I feel his cock lengthening against the round of my ass and I hate how good that feels.
“You know I like it better when you struggle,” he says. His tone remains light and silky, like this is a game to him. It’s always been a game to him.
“You’re diabolical,” I mumble. The more I thrash against him, the harder his cock grows until it feels like a weapon against me.
“You know I’m not,” he says mildly.
I don’t know anything anymore. The moment he kissed me by the covered bridge, read my mind, and brought my memories back, I was flooded with the images and feelings of us together. Nights in New York alleys. Mornings in his bed. Afternoons in the bath. Days in opium dens. I remember how I felt, how he really made me feel, and it was like seeing a light on in your house when you’ve been wandering in the dark for far too long.
I went straight into his arms because he’d always made me feel safe. A place to hide when you’re so fucking tired from running.
But now, now that I’ve had some time to think, now that I’ve been caught by the very darkness that was hunting me, I don’t know anymore. He’s with Kat, thinks he has more claim to her than I do. He’s not a lover anymore—he’s a rival. And if I want to win Kat back after what I did to her, Crane can’t be in the picture. Not with her and not with me.
“What do you want?” I manage to ask Crane, my cheek pressed against the cold floor as I try to get another breath in.
“What do I want?” he repeats. He leans forward and his lips are at my ear and I consider slamming my head back and breaking his nose. It would serve him right for shooting me, collaring me, and tying me up.
But I remember what I am.
Who I am.
Not just me.
I’m me with someone else lurking in the deep.
The devil.
I remember what I did to Kat. The way I rammed her head into her wall. How the darkness flowed over my limbs until I was just a moving shadow. How I lost every part of me that was ever good, even though I was never very good to begin with.