Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Her skin is flushed, her cheeks a shade too deep, heat radiating from her in waves, and I can feel it even from across the room.
The rise and fall of her chest produces shallow, uneven breaths.
She looks small—too small—crumpled in on herself, her tangled brown hair sticking to her damp skin.
There’s a slight tremble in her fingers curling weakly on the bottom of the jersey, pulling it down to cover her upper thighs. It’s the only movement she makes.
The rest of her…still.
A sickening unknown emotion bubbles up in my throat, but I swallow it down as I close the distance.
The heat in the room intensifies and that’s when it hits me. Her skin burning, probably her body’s reaction to what they injected into her. My left index finger twitches—the urge to destroy something, someone, barely held at bay.
I kneel by the bed, and my fingertips graze the bare skin of her arm.
Just like that, her warmth sears into me.
Hot. Too hot.
And it’s not the right type of heat.
I clench my jaw as I slip my arms under her, lifting her effortlessly. Her head lolls against my chest and her body falls into me as if her place has always been here.
In my arms.
What a ridiculous thought.
And yet…
Her soft breaths land against my neck, shallow and too quiet.
Dahlia has never been quiet, so this is strange, to say the least.
The faint smell of jasmine rips through my nostrils, filling me with her scent. Her skin is damp, flushed, burning up beneath my touch. I hold her tighter, watching the way she folds into me, her weight fragile in my arms.
They tried to break her. To touch what’s fucking mine.
The more her body curls into me, desperate for something solid, something safe, the hotter the fire inside me ignites.
Her fingers twitch against my chest, seeking an anchor. And the fact that she thinks of me as one—me—breaks through the fury muddying my head.
Dahlia is strong. Stronger than she knows. But at seeing her like this—broken, trembling, clinging to me for dear life—an unfamiliar feeling rushes through me.
An ache.
An urge to protect her in a way I’ve never protected anyone.
And that’s dangerous.
No. It’s lethal.
Because not only will it affect my plans, but it’ll also knock her off the chessboard as a useless pawn.
I should be cold, pull away, and maintain that distance I’ve carefully crafted between us.
Maybe call someone. Let them be the one to offer help while I retreat to the shadows.
But I’m locked in place.
Unable to ignore her soft, quivering body pressed into me, her heat like a brand.
I grit my teeth as I hold her tighter, hardening my jaw at the feel of her frantic heartbeat fluttering against me.
I convince myself that the way my fingers are digging into her thighs and arms means nothing.
It’s only to keep her from falling apart.
To later shove her back into the neat box I’ve created for her.
As I carry her out, Jude steps in front of me, his massive body blocking the door.
His face is set in hard lines, his eyes devoid of warmth.
It’s no secret that he would rather not be here cleaning up after some lower-class Vencor members and wasting his time.
“You know what to do, Jude. Make them spit out what their plan was. I’ll deal with Isabella afterward.”
“I didn’t even tell you it was her car I saw in the parking lot.” He raises a brow. “How did you figure it out?”
“It’s clear as day that she wasn’t happy about my recent involvement with Dahlia. Since she can’t touch me, she’d redirect her fury to the weaker party. A terrible miscalculation on her part.”
“What do you plan to do to her?”
“Get her kicked out of Vencor. With your and Preston’s votes, we can discharge a member. If she still insists on being a headache, I’ll have her buried six feet under.”
“Let’s say I go with the vote, why would Pres?”
“He will once I tell him Isabella had her goons use his name as the fall guy. You know he hates messy things if he’s not the cause.”
“I’ll consider it.” He stands taller, a flash of sadism sparkling in his eyes. “You owe me for today.”
“I do.”
“I expect an extra name in my inbox tonight.”
I nod.
Of course Jude would cash in immediately. He greatly lacks the skill of gathering intel and saving it for later. Though by having those names, he’s loosening himself further from my grip.
But it doesn’t matter. For now.
Jude still needs me to reach his goal, and, therefore, I can still control him.
Instead of stepping away, he glares at Dahlia, sparks nearly flying from his eyes.
I fix him with a stony look. “Is there a problem?”
“Why the fuck is it her? Of all people?”
“She’s just a pawn.”
He bursts out laughing, the sound long and cruel. “The almighty Davenport lost his cool for a pawn? Try to fool a lesser person.”