Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
My heart told me I wouldn’t die tonight. Ashley Cutler had a role yet to play in my life. For good or for evil. Whichever way that went, enraging him wouldn’t keep me alive.
“Are you frightened now?” He tapped the blade against his thigh.
“I was frightened before.”
“Not nearly enough.” He grabbed an apple from the table behind him and set the knife to it, slicing off a bite-size piece. “I’d rather not return you to the hold. You might not be tender or fragile, but a month in a cage with forty beasts feeding upon you…” He popped the wedge of apple into his mouth and chewed. “I don’t wish that on any woman.”
Brutal, uncontrollable shaking wracked my body. The weight of my wet hair hung in my face, my neck too weak to hold up my head. I couldn’t even muster the strength to beg or complain about the agony in my hands.
His gaze swept over me, taking in my ragged, shivering appearance. “You’re sufficiently exhausted.”
Was that what he called this? I was living a nightmare. My muscles had long ago given out. My stomach knotted with hunger pangs, and my shoulders felt as though they’d pulled from the sockets.
He balanced the apple on the rail off to the side. Then he put the knife between his teeth, the serrated edge angled outward, and stepped toward me.
I tensed as he let out more rope, lowering me until I hung at chest level with the rail. With a hand on my bound wrists, he hauled me in, hooking an arm beneath the backs of my thighs.
Lacking the energy to move, I let him lift me up and drape my legs over the balcony. The position seated me on the rail with my arms stretched overhead and his hips between my knees.
The warmth of his proximity breathed against me, his face hovering just inches from mine as he straightened Priest’s shirt over my thighs.
The knife between his lips served as a lethal barrier. One forward thrust of his head and the sharp edge would do some gruesome damage to my face.
I waited for him to cut the rope, but he didn’t. He straightened, reached for the apple, and removed the steel from his teeth to carve another wedge.
The tension in the cable pulled my upper body backward, requiring me to focus all my strength on my knees, where they hooked over the balcony rail. I could only sit there, clinging at an awkward angle, vulnerable, drained, and entirely at his mercy.
“Now…” He stabbed a piece of apple with the blade and held the juicy fruit to my mouth. “What shall we talk about?”
My stomach caved in.
Ashley wanted to talk instead of untying me? The devil fetch him!
With his eyes locked on mine, he waited, his head tilting deliberately as if to distract me from whatever emotion he guarded. He seemed to believe he was untouchable, impenetrable, especially holding that knife. But if he meant to cut me, he would’ve done so by now.
I’d punched him earlier. Hell, I’d landed a few good hits across that pretty face. Yet there wasn’t a trace of blood on his person.
“Your shirt.” I parted my lips and bit the wedge of apple off his blade, chewing lazily.
“Go on.” His disinterested tone grated as he carved another piece.
“You removed it, the frock, and those ridiculous shoes before we fought.” I opened my mouth and accepted the next slice while considering my bloody shirt. “You knew I would attack you and didn’t want your precious clothing to get ruined like mine. Since you’re wearing the shirt again, you must believe there will be no more bloodshed between us.”
Something lit in his eyes. Appreciation. I hadn’t missed it that time. He liked that I had a brain and knew how to use it.
Well, it wasn’t difficult to guess that he prided himself on his appearance. He reeked of vanity.
“What you said about my father…” I pressed my lips together, refusing the next cut of apple. “You were purposefully baiting my temper.”
“And you fell for it. Literally.”
He pivoted, leaving me suspended on the rail to amble through his sleeping quarters. The apple core and knife went on a small table. From an armoire, he removed another dark blue frock and shrugged it on. Black leather boots came next. He took his time lacing them over his wool stockings before returning to me. On his way, he passed a sea chest, where he grabbed a large glass bottle.
Uncorking it, he brought the drink to my lips. The syrupy, toasted sugar flavor of rum burst across my tongue. I gulped it down, taking long, greedy swills until my chest burned.
I coughed, wanting more, my eyes locked on the bottle. Instead of taking it away, he drifted closer, all of him, with his nose at my throat, inhaling.