Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I wake up and my head is pounding. My shoulders ache where my arms have been tied behind my back for so long. Just as I think that, I realise that my hands are no longer bound.
I don’t remember him untying me.
I sit up quickly. Looking down at my hands, I notice that my wrists are marked from the restraints. I guess I only have myself to blame for that, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.
My eyes dart around the small room. It’s dark, the only light coming from a small lamp on the desk. There are no windows, and the walls are bare, with the exception of one picture of a naked woman hanging over the side board covered in various bottles.
The door is opposite me, and there, slumped against it on the floor, is that man. His head is resting on his shoulder, and he does not look comfortable.
Good, I hope he has a stiff neck for days to come.
I study his profile, watching as his chest rises and falls on heavy breaths. He’s intimidating, dominating, and scary as hell. This man is as predatory as they come. Everything about him screams deadly. I don’t know what the hell Euan is into here, but this shit is serious.
My eyes drift down his chest of their own accord, tracing over the broad muscle. They skim lower, lower, and that’s when I notice the dim glint from the gun in his lap. His fingers are wrapped firmly around it, one a whisper away from the trigger. Shit, is he planning to shoot me?
I slowly rise to my feet. My head spins, but I manage to steady myself. I tiptoe across the room, watching to make sure his breaths remain even. Maybe I can just pry that gun from him? Shit, can I?
Worth a try. I drop into a crouch in front of him, reaching out cautiously. He doesn’t move. My fingers just brush the cool metal of the gun when his hand darts out and latches on to my wrist, squeezing hard.
“You should know I’m a very light sleeper,” he whispers without opening his eyes. I jump, and fall back on my arse. Shit! “Nice try, though.” Opening his eyes, he sits up. “What exactly were you gonna do, sweetheart? Kill me?” His gaze narrows accusingly on me, and I try to tame my pounding heart.
“No, just escape,” I whisper.
“Mmm, I see.” His eyes rake over me. “I untie you and you try to kill me. You see the problem I have with that?”
“I wouldn’t try to kill you. I’m not a murderer,” I huff.
“You’d be surprised what people will do to survive,” he says quietly.
He crawls toward me, the gun clasped in his hand, which makes me nervous to say the least. His lips kick up in a smirk. He’s like an animal stalking his prey, toying with it.
“You really should look at this particular situation like this, I’m your saviour. I didn’t kidnap you. I’m most likely gonna fuck up my own guy for busting those pouty-ass lips of yours.”
My saviour! Is he serious right now? My temper flares. I have been bartered in exchange for a bloody debt to this man, who clearly has the morals of an alley cat. I’m not a fucking object to be traded and exchanged at will!
“Oh, spare me your chivalrous bullshit,” I interrupt him. “You’re going to beat the shit out of your guy because he’s an idiot.” My hands are trembling as I attempt to scramble back away from him. I know I should be careful how I speak to him, but honestly, if he wants to kill me, he will.
He sucks in an agitated breath and continues, “...and I haven’t killed you, although I probably should seeing as how you just tried to steal my gun.”
He’s moving slowly, stealthily. All I can think is how much his movements resemble a big cat. This damn room is so dark, which doesn’t help. His cold eyes lock with mine, making me recoil even more. For every inch I move backward, he seems to move forward two. The last thing I want is him anywhere near me.
I laugh nervously. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit over-dramatic?” I try to keep my voice level, but it wavers under that murky green gaze. Honestly, I wouldn’t even know how to shoot a gun. One look at his expression, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing.
His eyes narrow as he growls. I can smell the whiskey on his breath as it blows across my face. I panic. I don’t know why I do, but out of instinct I lash out, slapping him across the face. His head snaps to the side slightly before his gaze swings to mine, and a sick grin twists his lips. “Wrong fucking move, sweetheart.”