Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Next time I touch her, I want to sink my teeth into her skin, to leave marks all along her pale neck so everyone can see that she's claimed. Then no one will be stupid enough to ask her out or even look at what's mine. I let out a discontented sigh and shove the rest of my sandwich into my mouth. It’s fucked up, but she’s a beam of light in my dark world. I need to see her. Touch her. Smell her.
I’m not usually consumed by women. After all, when you can have any pussy you want, why be smitten with just one? But Bel is different… There's something about her, and like the rarest of jewels, I want to possess her. And I will in time, but I’ll need to remain patient for now. I don’t want anyone to report to my father that I’m seeing her again or make him think I’m interested in her. If he thinks I’m interested in someone, then he will find a way to use them against me. And as much as I tell myself I don’t care, putting Maybel in the middle of this shitstorm with my father isn’t what I want to do. I’m selfish and fucked up, but I wouldn’t submit anyone to deal with that man.
As much as it pains me, I’ll have to wait, even if waiting isn’t my thing. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t stalk, tempt, or tease. After all, she did look so fucking pretty with fear painting her delicate features.
CHAPTER 12
BEL
Have you ever gotten that strange tingling sensation at the back of your neck? The one that makes you feel like you’re being watched? All your hairs stand on end, and goose bumps pebble your flesh. Because I have. More times than I can count in the last week. And I can’t decide if it’s because of the events that transpired between that psychotic man and me, or if it’s because he’s still watching me, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. Either way, I don’t like the sensation.
I push my shopping cart down the aisle with a little more haste. It’s late, and hardly any people are in the store except the stocking clerks and the cashiers. It’s my favorite time to shop because it’s so empty. No one looks twice at my threadbare hoodie and slippered feet. Usually, I’d drive to the next town over and go to Walmart or Aldi’s, but I’m only getting a few things.
I glance at my cart and rub my neck, my skin prickling. I ignore the sensation since it’s a constant in my life now and focus on my groceries. If my math is correct, I haven’t exceeded my twenty-dollar budget for food, and I can eat on this for a week. Off brand cereal, almost expired milk, and a pound of turkey I can use for salad. The lettuce is already starting to go, so they marked it down too. I’ll eat it all before it’s bad, and it saves me money, which is all that matters. Hell, saves the food from going to waste since they would throw it out anyway if I didn’t take it.
A sudden chill skates down my spine, and I tighten my grip on the cart and move faster toward the checkout. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but I can’t stand being here or feeling so vulnerable for a moment longer. It’s not like he’d actually attack me in the grocery store, right?
I quickly step up to the empty self-checkout and scan what I have in my cart. I hit the checkout button and scan my coupon app. The screen dings, but then the total doesn’t change.
“What the hell? Come on, you stupid computer.”
The computer in question gives a sharp ding and an error message about bagging my groceries. I groan and hit the checkout button again, trying to make it work.
Once the screen clears with the total again, I gape at it. No. It was supposed to be twenty dollars with the coupons. Defeat washes through me. I just want a goddamn salad and some fucking cereal. Tears threaten, and I glance at the cart, trying to calculate what I can remove. Everything in there is necessary.
A deep voice from behind me cuts through the panic and shame welling up inside. “Do you need some help?”
I’m already saying no as I turn around to look at the person in question. Oh shit. It’s the one from The Hunt. Sebastian, I think, is what Jack called him. A friend of his.
“No,” I whisper, then clear my throat and say it again louder. “No. I’m good.”
“Doesn’t seem that way. Maybel, isn’t that your name?”
“What do you want? Don’t you have butlers or something to do your shopping for you?”