Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“He pronounced us man and wife. I’ll kiss you in the truck. We’ve got to go,” Master said, and swept her into his arms.
“The drug is really wearing off,” she whispered. “I can’t stand up.”
It was a little thrilling that he could pick her up as if she didn’t weigh anything at all. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have curves—a lot of them. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her wet face on his shoulder, hiding the evidence that she was acting like a baby. She didn’t want him to see her looking weak. She wasn’t that kind of woman. She needed him to view her as an equal partner, and he wouldn’t do that if she was crying like a two-year-old.
Ambrielle snuck a peek to see where they were going as Master moved fast, his long strides silent for such a big man in combat boots. The one called Ice led the way, his automatic weapon looking too much a part of him. Preacher, his curly hair thick and wild, a guard right behind them, his rifle all business looking as well. These men knew what they were doing, and she had thrown her lot in with them, without question.
She looked up at Master as he approached a truck with its engine running, the man in the driver’s seat looking like he should have been a model. Master didn’t put her down as Preacher dragged open the door to the back. Master climbed in smoothly with her and slid her into the middle seat.
“Put your seat belt on.” Master slipped in next to her.
Ice occupied the seat on the other side of her, while Preacher took the front with the driver.
This was crazy. She was insane to have done this. She’d traded one nightmare for another because she’d been desperate for revenge. She would have done better to have chosen for them to let her go. But looking at the four grim-faced men, all of them armed to the teeth, she didn’t think that would have been one of her choices. Somehow, she would have ended up exactly where she was, in the truck, surrounded by these same four men.
“We’re good, Transporter, go,” Master informed the driver and leaned around Ambrie to do up her seat belt before she even reached for it. The pad of his thumb slid across her cheeks, wiping through the wetness there as he sat up straight.
Ambrielle did her best to control her breathing, to keep it slow and regular. She didn’t understand how under the circumstances, everything about Kir Vasiliev, the man who would be her husband, could attract her. Not just attract her; she had to admit the chemistry was off the charts. When she’d never really experienced hot sexual attraction, and didn’t even know she could under extreme duress, it was shocking and mortifying. She had the horrible feeling that chemistry had unduly influenced her decision when she wasn’t thinking as straight as she should have been.
“There’s a vest on the floor,” Transporter said. “You may need to cover her with it. There’re only three ways out of here, and we blew our time frame.”
“I’d prefer a gun,” Ambrie said. “I can assure you, I know how to use one.”
Master caught her chin in his hand and tugged her face around, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes met his: a challenge there. Defiance. Growing anger.
“I think my bride is having second thoughts. Putting a weapon in your hands when we’re going into war isn’t the brightest of ideas, princess.” His tone was just that little bit mocking, just enough to set her teeth on edge.
The pad of his thumb slid over her lips, and it felt like deliberate seduction. He was taunting her. She opened her mouth, knowing he wouldn’t resist. There was too much lust gathering in his dark eyes. The moment his thumb sought the moist interior of her mouth, she bit down hard, never taking her gaze from his. If she could break the skin and draw blood, that would be all to the good as far as she was concerned.
To her consternation, he laughed. He didn’t wince or blink. He laughed. She wasn’t certain he actually felt any pain at all.
He caught her jaw with his other hand and forced her to open her mouth by pinching at the hinge of her jaw until she had no choice. He wasn’t gentle either, but he was casual. He didn’t change expression, and there was no malice showing.
“What was that for?” He stuck his thumb in his mouth and slid his tongue around the wound, all the while watching her intently.
Ambrie tried not to stare. She wouldn’t be mesmerized by him. She told herself he was a killer. He’d admitted it to her. Warned her. She wanted to groan aloud. He’d even warned her. She couldn’t cry foul; he’d been truthful about what he was.