Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 62569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Quick witted, intelligent, and always on the offensive.
Dangerous—but a good ally to have and nobody would argue with whomever she chose to align with because she was solid, trustworthy, brutal.
Even Dante.
She wouldn’t enter into an arranged marriage—unless it was over her dead body, but could she be seduced into one?
Fuck, is that what Louis did?
My past came slamming into the present.
Was I looking at a carbon copy?
Similar story, different main character?
"So?” She leaned in. “Who tried to kill you?” She tilted her head. “At least nineteen times. Wow, that’s a large number for a large knife.”
I slapped her hand away. “I don’t like touching, least of all from you.”
“Am I that dirty?"
"Tainted,” I whispered. “And off limits. Do you really think I want to give up parts of my body in the name of temptation?”
A small smile spread across her face, a small dimple on her right cheek making itself known. “Does that mean I tempt you? Finally?”
She had tempted me then, but she was young and I was stupid, so I left the country and then lost more brain cells, fell in love, was betrayed and nearly killed.
Maybe I should have given in to that dimple then.
Maybe if I had I could have it now.
"I’m not a monk.”
“Eunuch.” She nodded. “That’s how I’m supposed to think of you, right?”
My manhood could only take so many hits, but I nodded. “Exactly.”
"Mmmmkay, then you won’t mind if I get closer, now tell me my bedtime story, the one with the killing and the knives and you walking away or in your case limping away still breathing.”
She wouldn’t quit.
I knew her.
So I punched the pillow beneath me and began to talk. “A long time ago, in a land far, far away—”
“Solid start.”
“I didn’t even practice.” I tried to suppress my smile and almost failed but managed to hold it in when she faced me again.
“Alright, so what happened in this far away land.”
"There was a monster who was taken in by a princess. All his life he was told he would never be anything but a monster, but she let him in on a little secret.”
“What was that?”
"The monster was born a prince, forced to live in the darkness in order to protect his bloodline.”
“Did he?”
“Did he what?”
“End up protecting it?”
My stomach lurched. “He almost lost it, but yes, it’s protected.”
“Good. I hate sad endings.”
"Then you’ll hate this story.”
She reached for me, and this time I let her run her fingertips over my chest. “Tell me anyway. Maybe it will help me deal with my sadness, maybe it will help you finally deal with yours.”
The arrow hit the mark.
How did she know?
How did she see it?
"Unresolved sadness,” she whispered, trailing her finger down my chest and up again, “masquerades as anger—it’s why you wanted me to yell at you, to react in the moment. I knew it even though I couldn’t compartmentalize anymore, even though I hated you for it—still hate you for it because I know you’ll keep doing it—but you have a lot of anger too—it’s hard trying to decide what box each emotion fits into.”
I ignored her. “The monster believed the lie; he stepped into the sun and embraced his future—with her.”
"Which hand?” Raven asked.
“Pardon?” I searched her eyes.
“The knife.” Raven whispered. “Which hand did she use, her right or her left?”
Frowning, I answered. “She’s right handed, but she used her left, why?”
Raven let out a rough exhale. “The truth might hurt.”
"I have no heart left to break.”
She smirked. “Okay.”
“Tell me.”
I was suddenly ravenous for her to keep speaking. Was this part of her charm? Part of her spell? Was I in over my head? Why the hell did I agree to even lie in bed with her when I’d clearly put up boundaries? When I even swore I wouldn’t touch another woman for the rest of my life?
Untrusting.
Cruel.
Liars.
Fuck, I wish I liked men.
No, that was just loneliness speaking.
“So?” I grabbed her hand and gently pushed her away from my scars. “What’s the verdict?”
She swallowed and gripped my hand. I let her, only out of curiosity. Her skin was soft. I felt nothing.
I lied to myself when my heart began to thud against my chest.
I just wanted to hear her version of the story.
"She was right handed, so in using her left, she wanted to hurt you, not kill you. Had she wanted to kill you, she would have used her dominant hand,” Raven said cryptically. “She was angry, she wanted to scar you, to humiliate you, she wanted you to feel the warm blood ooze down her fingers and see it spread across your chest. She wanted to maim you—so you’d always look in the mirror and think of her. I imagine, knowing that, you wish she would have used the right hand. I wonder, knowing that, if you wish, you would have died.”