Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I try calling my security again. This time, Arnold picks up. Fucking finally.
“Where is she?” I bark.
“She just went inside the house, sir.”
“Don’t let her out. I don’t care if you have to chain her to a fucking tree.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t hurt her, though. Leave a scratch on her skin and I’ll cut off your balls.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hang up, releasing a breath. Sometimes, I don’t know what goes on in that woman’s head. It doesn’t matter how submissive she gets under my hand or in bed. Out of it, she’s a tigress ready to rip the world a new one — me included.
Maybe that’s what made the challenge of taming her all the more thrilling. The feeling of utter control and empowerment I get from owning her is something I’ve never experienced before.
Even the feelings I have for this woman are entirely different from what I know. It’s that strange sensation that creeps up on you, then completely owns you.
Contrary to what everyone thinks, I do feel. I loved my parents and my brother in my own way. Aiden and Levi, too. But all of them are family — they’re people who hold the King name and my blood.
Aurora is different.
It’s not even a sense of duty and mutual understanding like it was with Alicia. There’s no mutual fucking understanding with Aurora. She does what her head tells her and tests my control every step of the way.
Yet she’s the only woman who’s fit to be the queen of my empire.
With Aurora, it’s…belonging. Yes, I believe that’s the right word. She’s the first person who’s spoken to my soul without words. Which is weird as fuck since I always thought I lacked that — a soul, that is.
At first, I didn’t understand how she brought out that part of me, but the more time I spend with her, the more certain I am that she’s slowly but surely becoming an indispensable part of my life.
The thought of living on without her punches a hole in my previously impenetrable chest.
That’s why her suggestion of ending it per the agreement pissed me the fuck off. It still brings on incomparable rage to the front of my head.
There’s no way in fuck I’m letting her go, or worse, standing by to watch her move on. I’ll kill every last fucker before that happens.
The car rolls to the mansion and I release a long breath.
Is the confrontation with her going to be easy? Probably not, but that’s the thing about Aurora, I’m ready for her tantrums and provocations and everything in between.
Hell, I even strive for them now.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I expect it to be one of the guards who’ll tell me she’s trying to leave — or that she has already left.
I’ll chase her to the ends of the earth if I have to.
The unknown number that flashes on my screen gives me pause.
I answer with my curt tone, “Jonathan King.”
“Kyle Hunter.”
“Right, Kyle. Have you figured out the identity of the attacker?”
“I’ve done more than that and I’m on my way. Give me access inside.” His cool voice filters through the phone with ease.
“Who is it?”
“Not only is he under your roof, but his game is a lot bigger than you think.”
I stop breathing as Kyle continues speaking. The name he says, the dates, and the events that occurred are all connected. But it’s not his words that make me barge out of the car before it properly stops.
It’s the woman inside.
Aurora’s life is in danger.
31
Aurora
Voices reach me as if I’m at the bottom of the sea and they’re somewhere at the surface. Distorted, far away, and barely audible.
My tongue sticks to the roof of my dry mouth and it takes me a considerable amount of energy to swallow.
My pupils move behind my eyelids, but I’m not seeing anything… I don’t think. It’s like I’m back in that grave. My side open, blood pours from me and I can’t lift myself to come out.
Tears pool at the corners of my eyes. No. I’m not that sixteen-year-old girl anymore. I said goodbye to my nightmare. I mourned him.
Slowly, too slowly, my eyes open. The walls are turning and I’m about to fall.
Only…I don’t.
I’m bound to a chair by thick ropes around my torso and others strain my arms behind my back.
Blinking twice, I start to register my surroundings. The counter, the clean white flooring, the table in the middle.
The kitchen. I’m in the kitchen at home.
My eyes widen when I make out the man behind a camera that’s sitting on a tripod. The man who has a mask falling around his neck. The scratch marks I left earlier run diagonally across his face.
The man who stabbed me eleven years ago and attacked me a few weeks back.
Tom.
The reason I haven’t picked up on the dragon tattoo is because he has hair now. He was bald back then — eleven years ago, I mean.