Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
I close my eyes, trying to piece together what happened. The place was empty. No one was around. I was listening for footsteps or any clue that I was busted. It was like a ghost snuck up behind me.
My eyes fly open as I hear movement in the shadows. At first, I think it’s my erratic mind playing a trick on me, but then I hear it again.
“Who’s there?” I ask, pulling at my limbs. My arms are heavy, but at least I can feel them now.
Deafening silence is the only response. Endless seconds tick by before a figure emerges from the darkness and reveals himself. A huge, shirtless man wearing a black ski mask. His muscular body is impressive, with black tattoos covering his chest and massive arms. Jeans ride low on his hips, and his feet are bare. He’s got pretty feet. It’s a random thought and not something I’d expect from a man who looks like him.
“Who the hell are you?”
He scoffs and crosses his arms, making his chest seem even larger. The man is a beast. “I was about to ask you the same thing. It’s dangerous to break into a bear’s cave. Little lambs like you could get hurt.”
“Is that your plan? Tie me up and kill me?”
The masked guy smiles as he grips my ankle and unlocks one cuff, followed by the other. “There. Now you have use of your legs.”
What’s up with this guy? It’s like he’s trying to flirt with me. The Cinders said these guys were dangerous, insane, and bloodthirsty, but this guy seems like a regular old Joe. Then again, this could be their thing—lull me into thinking they aren’t that bad, and bam, they chop me up into tiny pieces. “It’s not like my legs are any use if I can’t run away from you.”
A deep chuckle before a snap, and then another. I pull my arms toward me and rub my wrists. Taking my chance, I leap off the bed. I don’t make it far.
I take one step before I’m slammed onto the bed, and the giant straddles me. He grips my throat, and I become lightheaded as he applies pressure. The psycho did a one-eighty—friendly murderer turned violent. Yes, I know that’s a stupid comparison, but it’s the best my mind can muster at the moment.
“I could kill you right now, so don’t get any ideas about running.”
A rush of arousal takes me hostage. Fuck, why is this hot? Sure, he’s capable of snapping my neck, but the man would look fine as hell doing it. I hate that I like this kind of deranged shit. Only way I’ve ever gotten off with a guy is when I’ve made him take me by force. Missionary lovey-dovey shit has never done it for me.
We still, our bodies frozen, and my eyes travel to his bare chest and the black tattoos covering fucked-up, jagged scars that look as if they’ve reopened before they could heal properly. Fresh wounds from a thin, tortuous instrument interrupt the tattoos. It looks like someone took a cane to him for hours without a break.
“What are you going to do to me,” I ask between rasps of air.
“Trust me, Lamb. What I’ll do to you is far more merciful than what my brothers will do.”
He growls as he stumbles back. I’m unsure where I found the strength to kick him, but I did. Guess when you think it’s your final moment, you’ll do what you need to in order to survive.
Taking advantage of my captor's temporary lapse, I jump off the bed and run toward the wooden door. I turn the knob and throw it open, barreling into the hard chest of another masked man.
Chapter Eight
ABADDON
I hated how Iblis and I left things. So much unsaid and even more unanswered. Our relationships are devastating, brutal, painful, and tender. A fucked-up club with absurd dances that we sway to, hoping we discover a rhythm in the madness.
I need something to take my mind off it all. Maybe that pretty little thing lying unconscious.
I’m about to turn the door handle, ready to mess with someone who will let me forget how fucked up I am, when it busts open, and the pretty little thing stands there, wide-eyed. “Where are you scurrying off to, Cub? We haven’t even begun the slaughter.”
“There are two of you?” she yelps as she elbows me in the gut.
Fucking bitch.
I step forward, and she moves back, but her eyes flash with fire and perseverance. The cub believes she’s a match for us. It’s impressive but ignorant. Forget the three of us; I alone could break her like a twig. It’s too bad that Iblis won’t let us play with her. He might be our little bitch, but that fucker is a crazier psycho than the two of us. After all, he’s the one who got Asmodeus and me to this point.