Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Fucking Taron. How dare he play with Colin’s mind like this? He wasn’t supposed to be nice. He was supposed to be a monster who mistreated his victim until Colin managed to flee. But no, the fucker had somehow twisted Colin around his finger, made him feel like there were advantages to the situation. It had all been lies. If someone’s pet needed medical attention, the proper course of action was to take it to the goddamn vet. Surely, Colin deserved the same treatment! And likewise, a wounded dog that barked because it was helpless and scared shouldn’t be just sent away the moment it stopped being playful.
What the fuck. What the actual fuck?
Colin’s eyes stung, and he squeezed them shut, hugging the crutches as his entire body throbbed, itching for release of the tension that had been building up inside him for the past two weeks.
If anything, Taron should have been grateful he’d finally gotten laid. Just like Colin should be exhilarated by his upcoming freedom, yet all he wanted to do was cry. He’d never been such an emotional mess. Even in the first days after his abduction, he’d cried for hours, but his situation then had been clear enough. Now? He was angry at Taron for… what? Letting him go? Wasn’t that what Colin had wanted from the beginning?
The problem was that the freedom ahead came with pain, and noise, and people asking him questions. With exams, a future to think about, and guys who he only cared to meet if their dick measured more than six inches. Whatever happened, Taron wouldn’t be a part of that future, and neither would the bunker, the physical work that gave Colin peace and meaning, nor the comfortable silence.
He sobbed when his leg twitched but went on, focusing on the road ahead. He’d woken up from a very long dream, and it was time to face reality. He just wished the future could still hold Taron’s arms around him. Which was pathetic, but he was done making excuses for his emotions.
He hated Taron. But even more, he hated that hurt look in his green eyes when he’d tried to confess his love a second time. Colin should have been happy he’d managed to wound the monster, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel any satisfaction from Taron’s pain and just sobbed again.
No matter how illogical it was, he felt like he was leaving behind a part of himself that could never be recovered. A part that made jokes that weren’t mean, that liked getting up in the morning without hitting the snooze button ten times in a row. The person who felt truly comfortable with himself despite the collar, the lack of internet, and the absence of his family. The person who didn’t consider cuddles a waste of time and liked watching stars at night while a cat sat in his lap and a heavy arm weighed down his shoulders. The person who felt like he was enough.
Colin stilled when his eyes blurred over. The crutches were cold, hard, too thin, but they were the only friend he had, so he clutched them to his chest, wondering if all the tears spilling down his face would end up in dehydration.
He stilled at the hum of an engine behind his back. There was just one person who could be driving from that direction. Had Taron changed his mind? Colin’s brain was saying ‘hide!’, but his whole being craved to be found and taken back to the man for whom he was the center of the universe. The man who’d told him he was perfect the way he was, and who didn’t hold back mocking Colin’s lack of survival skills just to endear himself.
Shame curled at the pit of Colin’s stomach, and despite the pull dragging his mind toward the noise, he turned around and resumed his trek, shoulders aching the moment he rested his weight on the crutches again.
But the vehicle was faster than Colin, and soon enough he could sense the weight of Taron’s gaze on his nape, like a rope tightening around his neck to haul him back. The sound of the motor was like the purr of a pleased cat, but Colin refused to acknowledge it in any way.
Taron drove past him, but then stopped the pickup truck across the road and got out. If he expected having to fight Colin, he would be pleasantly surprised. Colin was too exhausted to resist.
Taron seemed refreshed when he approached Colin in the dying sunlight. The button-up plaid shirt only made him more of a hunk, and his groomed beard said I care what people think, not I murdered a man on this road three months ago.
He stopped in front of Colin with a strangely neutral expression.