Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“Wh–ow!” She squeezes as I swipe along her foot.
I keep going until the wound is clean. Her small fingers clutch my shirt, her nails trying to dig into my skin. It makes me wish I wasn’t wearing a shirt. I want to feel her nails in me, marking me. I blink that thought away.
“It’s clean.” I drag an alcohol wipe across it.
She cries out and digs her nails in deeper.
Fuck. Yes. I want more of it, of her violence. She’s a Fernandino, the worst scum of the fucking earth, and that’s saying something given the vermin I associate with. But this girl, she doesn’t seem so fucking horrible. She’s a princess, sure, but not the sort I was imagining. I had her pegged from the moment I learned of her existence. Spoiled little bitch. But now, now I’m beginning to think I’ve missed more than a few things. Like how fucking gorgeous she is. Like her smart mouth. Like the way she makes me imagine things with her. Sex, of course. But more. Like what she’d feel like in my arms. Like what she’d feel like if she ran into my arms. I shake my head and try to get a fucking grip.
With quick fingers, I press a bandage to the cut, then sit back on my haunches. Grabbing her other foot, I clean it off meticulously. I keep my hand around her calf, her skin so soft beneath my rough touch.
Her laugh ricochets off the tiles, and I snap my head up.
She’s laughing?
“It tickles!” She pulls her foot back and tucks it beneath her on the counter. Her smile is precious, so fucking pure, but then it fades into a look of disdain, her spoiled brat mask sliding firmly back into place.
I rise. “All right, princess. You should be all set.”
“All set to be a hostage or a murder victim?” she asks, her voice sharp as a knife blade.
It hits true, causing something inside me to bleed. Fuck, the thought of her being hurt … It makes my stomach turn. The cut on her foot was enough.
But that’s crazy. Fucking nuts. I stole her for the specific purpose of hurting her. Not me, though. No, she’s meant for my father. She shouldn’t even be here. Fuck. I run a hand through my hair.
She shrugs. “I suppose you aren’t the ‘thinker’ of the family.”
“No, I’m the muscle.” I lean forward and brace my hands on the counter on either side of her.
She leans back, her eyes widening. “What are you–”
“Let’s take this one step at a time, princess. Quit trying to piss me off, and you might survive a little longer.”
“Quit making it so easy for me,” she snaps back.
I eye her mouth, the lips that are so soft they felt unreal. I get a mental flash of her mouth around my cock. Fucking hell. I can’t keep my gaze from her lips. “That smart mouth can be used for lots of purposes, princess. You might want to keep that in mind.”
“A threat from a Taletti? How original.” Her breath catches when I move closer, our lips only a breath away.
“There you go again, princess.”
She squirms and presses her thighs together.
That’s when I catch a scent. It’s faint. Nothing more than a tease. But it goes straight to the primal part of my brain, lighting it up like a Christmas tree. She’s turned on. So fucking turned on that she’s wet.
For me.
I lean lower and inhale deeply. God-fucking-dammit. She smells like a snack, one I want to smear all over my mouth.
She gasps. “What are you doing?”
I force my head up and meet her eyes again. “Playing with fire.”
She smirks. “In that case, burn, bitch, burn.”
8
OLIVIA
There is no mistaking Sergei’s want for me, no matter how much he hates it. It’s written all over his face. And based on his reaction, I know he can smell my arousal. There’s no use in even trying to deny it. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. It has to be some adrenaline high or knowing death is near. Still, it pisses me off.
I would smack him to stop whatever is happening between us, but he’s too damn close. Instead, I press my hands to his chest and try to push him away. He doesn’t budge, so I sink my nails into him through his shirt.
“Are you so sure it’s me that will be the one burning, princess?” I expect a cocky smirk from him, but instead, he takes a deep, longer breath. If he wasn’t a Taletti, I would probably find this sexy as hell, but he is who he is.
“Enjoy my smell?” I challenge.
He’s given me too much wiggle room, and I don’t mean physically. His words might be cutting along with his glares, but still he hasn’t raised a hand to me. I need to continue to remind myself that he’s a Taletti. Violence is all they know, or so I’ve been told. They’re a bunch of wild animals that kill for sport. They have no regard for women or life.