Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“I kinda like it when you carry me,” Kill says, staring at me as if I’m one of Claude Monet's masterpieces. “Are you taking me to my tower, my prince?”
I wish to take him straight to my bed, but I promised him no more lies, and since we’ve been interrupted already, I itch to get the last of them out of the way.
“Better. I’ll show you everything there is to know about me.”
Chapter 18
Killian
I’m high on Damen by the time he puts me down and takes my hand. My Murder Romeo might be eager to hunt down his enemies, but at least he’s honest about it. As long as he’s also honest about his devotion for me, I don’t care.
He grabs my hand and kisses it with a few words in French before leading me to a door that’s new to me. I’ve only ever seen staff go through it, but it’s in the far end of the house, so it’s not as if I’ve been around here much.
His words still echo in my heart.
“I will never not want you.”
“You belong with me.”
“You’re mine.”
The magic words to unlock my heart.
I squeeze his hand when we enter a massive storage room with metal shelving holding everything from soaps, pet food and flour, to linen and spare brooms. But we go farther, down a flight of stairs that lead into a cellar carrying a faint smell of damp earth. I spot many types of vegetables, as well as wine, but Damen knows exactly where he’s going and reaches past a pickle jar resting inside a nearby cupboard. Something clicks, and the piece of furniture breaks away from the wall, revealing a hidden passage.
My heart beats so loudly I can hear it. If I were with anyone else, this moment would have felt like walking to meet my own death, but I have faith in Damen’s smile and follow him inside. A few seconds later, we reach a junction decorated with an old portrait of a distinguished gentleman in circular glasses and an old-fashioned suit. “My great-great-grandfather,” Damen says. “He built the house. And this cellar.”
I look around the small space at the landing. One door to the left, one to the right. Both are made of metal and fitted with many locks.
Damen kisses my temple, and his fingers dance over my shoulder in excitement. “Prey or trophies first?”
I swallow, but I’m too deep down this rabbit hole now. I want to know. I want all the secrets and a clear view of Damen’s heart. “Prey.” Because I dread it more and I want to have it over with. Though a sick part of me relishes that I will see my man’s enemies. He said they deserve to be here, so who am I to question it?
He makes a soft, raspy sound at the back of his throat and kisses me again. “It’s so exciting to share this with you,” he says, then proceeds to open all the complex locks, some with dials to arrange into passwords, another with a key he has on him. Eventually, the door opens, and a dim light turns on the moment we step into a small interior with more storage. There’s a couch here, and a small library of books, as well as an opened bottle of wine, and two packets of chips, but this can’t be the place. Someone has been here not long ago, and I suspect it was the person who ensures the ‘prey’ survive until the day of the hunt.
“Guards sometimes stay here,” Damen answers my unspoken question, but he’s headed for the door across from the one we just opened and as soon as we step into the floor-to-ceiling concrete corridor I know we must be in the right place. The air hits me like a warning. It reeks of death. The metallic stench of old blood with a hint of mildew.
Overhead lights flicker to life, illuminating the many doors on each side as we move forward. Ten? Twenty? Each has a rusty grate at eye level I can look through if I choose to, and at the bottom, a slit which I imagine is for passing the prisoners food.
No Christmas decorations here.
My boots echo over the floor, and I swear I spot a shadow moving in one of the slits as we pass. Unwanted guilt clenches my stomach. Have I really come here to gawk at these damned souls?
Damen’s hand is so warm on the small of my back, and he guides me as if this is simply another part of the estate, no different than the grand dining room, or the secret ‘elf’ room for the children to play in. He glances at a piece of paper hung on the wall in a simple frame, then takes me two doors down and lifts the visor cover, peeking inside. “Afternoon,” he says cheerfully. “Care to introduce yourself?”