Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
The door slid open, and Lila reappeared. Even with smudged makeup and a wrinkled dress, she was still fucking gorgeous. Her looks were a problem. I made a mental note to chop that pretty hair and maybe add a scar or two to her face.
“Breakfast’s in ten. Get dressed.” I shouldered past her, tugging my sweatpants down and taking a piss.
She went about her business quietly, and other than a few death glares, didn’t show great enthusiasm to kill me this morning.
Once I was done brushing my teeth, she slipped into the bathroom and returned with her hair in a loose French braid, a fresh clean face and a pink ruffled dress. She needed to stop dressing like a toddler. Shy of her wedding dress, everything I’d seen her in looked like it was plucked straight off a Baby Gap hanger.
Avoiding my gaze, she padded toward the door quickly.
“Stop,” I ordered.
She did.
“Sit.” I pointed at the unchristened bed.
She followed my instructions, defiant anger rolling off her stiff shoulders.
I had all the good intentions and warmth of a reptile, but I still recognized she needed to know what the fuck she was doing with a knife if she planned to wave one around frequently.
I dug a Swiss knife from my pocket. Her eyes flared as I crouched in front of her.
“Quick lesson in anatomy and stabbing people, since it’s less work than teaching you how to use a gun.” I flicked the blade open on a sigh. “When you attack someone, you want to be lethal and strategic. Don’t just wave it around like you’re trying to swat a fly.” I had no idea how much of this shit actually registered. Since I wasn’t in the habit of repeating myself, she better fucking pay attention. “You go for the main blood carriers. The faster they bleed out, the slower they are to chase you. Radial and ulnar arteries.” I pointed at my wrists with the knife, making a horizontal slit motion less than an inch away. She blinked. “Jugular veins.” I pointed at my own neck. “Cubital fossa.” I poked the blade inside my elbows. “The chest seems like an appealing option, but due to the thick layers of muscle and bone, it’s hard to penetrate without proper force.”
She stared at me silently, taking it all in. She was either the stupidest creature I’d ever met or the smartest. It was also possible she was a spy. A way for the Ferrantes to harvest intel. I filed that in the back of my head.
“Now, if you want to inflict superficial wounds, go for the shoulders. Forearms. Palms.” I handed her the knife. She took it, uncertainty swimming in those Nordic eyes.
I extended my palm in her direction. “We need to sully those sheets in the next minute. Go vertical to avoid hitting the nerves. This way.” I dragged my finger along my palm.
This was a twofold exercise. One, I wanted to check her cognitive abilities by giving her a complex instruction. Two, I wanted to flush the hunger for my blood out of her system. My guess was she bottled up a healthy dose of feminine rage these past eighteen years. She had a scratch to itch.
She didn’t make a move.
“You’ve been wanting to do this since we got here.” I held her gaze. “This is your one and only chance. Next time, I’ll retaliate.”
Her nostrils flared, a flash of the Ferrante wrath flickering in her pupils. She leaned in, aiming the blade at my throat. She smelled decadent. A heady combination I’d yet to detect on human skin. Like flowers and summer and innocence and mine.
It was time to start looking for a fair-haired, dainty mistress I could pretend was her from behind.
“There you are,” I drawled, my gaze never wavering from hers as she pushed the blade against the throbbing vein in my neck. “Now be a good girl and finish the job.”
She grabbed my wrist, opened my palm, and slashed the inside of it. It was a straight, vertical line from my thumb to wrist with the precision of a pathologist.
Intellectually challenged, my ass. She understands complicated assignments.
This was an unfortunate turn of events for my new wife. Because if I found out she was a mole—which I now suspected—I was going to punish her. Severely.
I raised my palm between us. Blood snaked down my forearm, twisting like ivy. We both watched. Her in fascination, me with dry amusement.
“First time drawing blood?”
She licked her lips quietly.
“Here. Have a taste.” I pushed my bloodied hand in her face. “One of the many perks of marrying a psychopathic murderer is I’m in no position to judge you.”
I was fucking with her. Testing her limits. Stretching and pushing them to make them burst so I could unveil what lurked beyond that porcelain doll facade.