Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Did St. James take this route on purpose? To remind me of my responsibilities as a dom?
Or did Inara choose our usual private room, knowing it would remind me of the times we had?
The elevator has almost reached its destination when St. James speaks again. “By the way, you’re welcome.” We’re both facing the door, and I refuse to glance at his face or ask what he thinks I should thank him for. “For keeping her safe when you couldn’t.”
The only thing keeping me from stabbing him right here, right now, is the thought of having to face Inara with blood all over my hands. “You snatched her before I could get to her,” I say to my blurred reflection in the metal door.
“She was ready to run away. She would’ve done anything to get away from you.” He means to bait me—does he want me to kill him?—but his words batter me like bullets hitting a bullseye. All I can see is Inara crouched and screaming in that room of dead birds. Overwhelmed by fear.
In what I’m aware is a heroic act of self-discipline, I do not break his neck and leave him in a crumpled pile on the elevator floor.
The doors open, and I stride out, willing to give St. James the last word if it means I’m rid of him faster. I know where my private rooms are; I don’t need him to show me the way.
“Do we have an alliance?” St. James calls after me.
“Yes,” I say, without turning around.
“Excellent. I’ll inform Damien and the rest. Oh, one more thing. In addition to owing Kaiser a new Jeep, you owe Jaeger bodywork on his Lykan.”
“Send me the bill,” I say and stride down the hall toward my room.
I burst through the door, but Inara isn’t there. There’s a mug of tea on a side table, still steaming. If that’s hers, she was just here.
I move deeper into the room to see if she’s standing in a corner when the door slams behind me.
I leap to grab the door handle, but it’s locked. As I knew it would be. But that means—
“St. James?” I call out to see if he locked me in.
There’s a pause, and my heart leaps at the first clue of who’s beyond the door.
“It’s me,” Inara says. Her voice is quieter than usual. Not the firm, stubborn tone I’m used to.
“Inara.” Her name leaves my lips in a rush. She must have been hiding in another room when I exited the elevator and took her opportunity to trap me. Now I imagine her standing only a few feet away. I rest a hand on the door between us, wanting to feel close to her. “Unlock the door.”
“No.” Her voice is stronger. “I’m not going to do that, Rex.”
I huff. I could force the door, but if she’s standing close to it, I don’t want to hurt her.
And I don’t want her to leave.
For the moment, she’s trapped me. It’s just a small taste of how I trapped her, but I hate it.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“This is the part where I tell you it’s for your own good,” she says. “But we both know that’s a lie. It’s really for mine.”
I clench my fist, allowing her to have her revenge.
“Now you know how it feels.”
Only a few inches of wood separate me from Inara, but it feels like a chasm. She’s safe, I remind myself. And she’s near.
I swallow my temper. “Are you hurt?”
There are many ways I could break out of this room, but I need to make sure she’s okay more than I need to see her. And a part of me knows that if she feels safer talking to me from behind a locked door, then I want to give her that.
“I’m okay. It was just a shock.”
She’s talking about the collapse at her apartment. I’m all amped up about St. James, and she’s still reliving the horror of that moment I saw on the footage Hamish sent me. “What happened?”
“He was there, Rex.” She sounds like she’s closer to the door, leaning against it. “He was in my house. It was awful, I can’t—” She sounds close to hyperventilating.
“Shhhh,” I rest my forehead on the wood, feeling helpless. The only thing stopping me from busting through this door is the fact that it might scare her, and she’s already scared. ”It’ll be okay.” I don’t want to send her back to the state she was in, crumpled by her townhouse door. I keep my voice calm and soothing, even as my arms ache to hold her. “You’re here, and you’re safe.”
“No thanks to you.” Her voice hardens.
I keep silent because it’s true.
“I thought you would keep me safe, Rex. Instead, you locked me up.” Her voice rises in anger. Anger is good. Anything is better than the devastated sorrow I saw on screen.