Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Hannah-consort,” he repeats, louder this time.
I continue to ignore him, and even start to hum lightly under my breath as I continue my task.
“Hannah-consort,” he roars. “Pay attention to me.”
Or what? I think, but do not say. And perhaps it is the devil in me, testing him like this, when I know how volatile his temper is.
But he is not the only one who can get angry. Maybe I haven’t even known it till now, how deep the well of anger inside me goes. A lifetime of slights, degradation, either being treated as if I were invisible or as if I were a burden—
My movements become sharper. I yank the bearskin bedcovering taut, and it snaps with the quick movement.
I have as much rage as he has, and yet I do not strike out at all those dear to me.
I hear his hoof-steps on the cobblestones, and I swear, if he explodes at me, this will be it. I will leave him for good. Forever. Somehow, I will find a way. I have done impossible things before, and I will do them again.
But when he speaks again, his voice is low, and it is controlled. “Hannah-consort will go nowhere without me at her side. And if she will not agree to these terms, then she will go nowhere.”
What does that m—
But stubbornly, I will not ask.
And as it turns out, the answer is quickly provided.
For the next moment, Abaddon pounces on me and bears me down to the bed I have just made.
Had he been rough with me, I would have attacked him and fought like a wildcat. But his claws are carefully retracted, and I know he is taking the utmost care to be gentle with me as I land on my back on the bearskin.
He comes on top of me, but not with his weight. He bears his knee between my legs, and his ink-black wings flare out behind him, darkening the daylight coming in through windows.
Still, stubbornly, I don’t make a sound, only staring at him furiously for a moment before averting even my eyes from his. Denying him even the communication of eye contact.
“Hannah-consort will be safe.” He breathes out, and then he takes my wrist, easily overpowering any resistance I might have made—and I’m not sure that I do try to resist, which feels fucked up even as my chest starts fluttering—as he bears it to the mattress up above my head. Then, still keeping me pinned beneath him, he brings out a length of rope from underneath the bed.
I want to demand to know what he’s doing. But well, it’s fairly obvious as he loops the rope around my wrist and then shifts to tie it to the bedpost. I adjust beneath him, stubbornly staying silent as he easily pins me down with his wings while he works, quickly tying one wrist, and then another.
He’s tying me to the bed again.
I won’t speak to him, but I let out an outraged noise from the back of my throat. Things are different now. He can’t just—
“Yes,” he says, more a purr, “you will scream for me soon enough.”
Which suddenly makes all the moisture in my mouth go dry. And, as if it’s transferred directly to another part of my body, my legs began to squirm.
But Abaddon isn’t nearly done, yet.
He moves down my body, his wings beginning to flutter all around me. I recognize that flutter.
And then he grabs my left ankle. I’m not sure if I’m anticipating or dreading being completely stuck in place. Last time I was face down, but now I’m on my back, which means I can see everything he’s doing.
I kick out with my right leg, the last limb left free, but he only snatches it out of the air, always careful to retract his claws like always when he interacts with me. It doesn’t lessen the strength of his grip, though, as he forces my leg back to the bed and then loops yet another rope around it.
Where the hell are these ropes coming from anyway? Were they there just waiting under the bed all along? Jesus, he’s obviously prepared for this.
Alarm spikes through my chest.
But if I’m being entirely honest… there’s excitement mixed in with it. What is wrong with you? I ask myself, squeezing my eyes shut.
That helps nothing, though, because then I’m completely unprepared for when Abaddon moves back up my body.
My sex contracts and gets so wet, I’m startled. And really, really excited for what comes next.
Which is, apparently, Abaddon’s hands squeezing my thighs as he bends over my sex. I’m not even sure when he rucked up my apron skirt, but my legs are stretched open by the way they’re tied to the bed. And when he breathes out over my sex, I almost break my own vow of silence.