Perfect Rage (Unyielding #3) Read Online Nashoda Rose

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Unyielding Series by Nashoda Rose
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Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
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Patience. Stillness. Control.

It existed in me before the drug, during the drug, but no more. Instead, I was unpredictable and the fragile control would easily snap whether I wanted it to or not.

And that was the kicker of all this. The pretense that I had some sort of control, but the reality was I didn’t.

I lived in a dark, delicate shell that perched on the ledge of a cliff ready to fall into the depths of the raging waves below. That was where I’d drown over and over again being tossed around like a fuckin’ pebble, not knowing which way was up, which way to swim and escape the tumultuous sea of rage.

I gritted my teeth, eyes shifting from her to the floor as my head throbbed. The pain had begun. I teetered on the edge of the cliff.

The band kicked into gear and the crowd cheered and clapped, not paying any attention to me, not that it mattered. I’d take the chance anyway in order to be near her again.

She was worth the risk. Besides, I no longer had the ability to give a shit about the risks I took. It was like the capability to feel that emotion had been erased.

She picked up empty beer bottles from tables and placed them on a tray she carried. I was pissed as hell when I discovered she worked here. Last night, I’d watched her walk out of here at two in the morning to hop in a cab. Yeah, the bartender came out and stood with her, but I didn’t like it. It wasn’t safe doing shit like that.

I’d been watching her for three days now. Took me a bit to find her, but once I found Deck, it didn’t take long. There was always a trail. You just had to find the first breadcrumb and Deck had been mine. He had no reason to hide her, so it hadn’t been difficult. But as soon as he knew I was here, there’d be a reason.

She moved closer.

Ten feet.

Nine.

Eight.

She was so close I tasted her on the tip of my tongue.

I uncrossed my arms and pushed away from the wall. Every nerve shot off in sparks the second she passed me to clear off the table five feet away.

She bent, her hand reaching for an empty beer bottle.

I saw it. The moment she sensed me behind her.

Scent. It was primal. It was what made the deer run before the coyotes were within eyesight.

Her hand slipped from the bottle and it toppled over, the remnants, spilling out onto the table then dripping onto the floor.

She ignored it as she straightened, her entire body stiff as she froze.

“Alina,” I drawled.

Her breath hitched and I loved that fuckin’ sound. Not for the reason it was now, but from when I’d touched her. When I’d made her tremble and arch and scream beneath me.

She slowly turned.

Her eyes widened as they locked on me and she staggered back a few steps until her spine hit the wall. The tray filled with empty beer bottles wobbled unsteadily in her hands and I moved quick, stepping in front of her and taking the tray then setting it down on a table to my left.

Then I turned back to her.

She was nervous. Couldn’t blame her.

She no longer knew who I was. Fuck, I didn’t know who I was anymore. Living in blackness splattered with the tainted blood of what I’d done.

“Connor,” she whispered in that husky sweet voice.

I stepped closer.

She tensed, hands out as if to warn me to keep back, but when I was close enough, her palms rested on my chest.

I leaned forward and put one hand on the wall above her head.

Caged in. Trapped.

She was an average height, but I still towered over her.

“You don’t belong here,” I said. Not sure why that was the first thing out of my mouth, but I no longer had a filter and I hated seeing her working here. She didn’t belong in a bar serving drunk assholes who stared at her ass.

Alina was a brilliant photographer and that was what she should be doing. This wasn’t her.

Shutterbug. My fuckin’ shutterbug.

Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with me? She wasn’t mine. Couldn’t ever be again and yet, everything inside me said she was.

Her eyes got bigger and her bottom lip trembled. “You’re… here.”

I expected this reaction. The fear. Not knowing if I was that cold, cruel man in Colombia or something else entirely.

People feared me now. Even walking into a convenience store people stayed out of my way and if they couldn’t, their discomfort was obvious by stiff spines, eyes unable to meet mine and quickened breaths. It didn’t bother me anymore. But fuck, it bothered me seeing the fear in her because I put it there.

“Yeah.”

The pulse in her throat throbbed and her hands resting on my chest twitched. “I don’t understand. Deck said…” She stopped, her face paling. “Are you here to kill me?”


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