Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I’m holding my breath.
“Then he did the weirdest thing,” she says.
My voice comes out rough. “Weirder than everything else?”
“He looked at his hand,” she continues, ignoring me, “streaked in my blood. Looked at the mess between my thighs. And his eyes changed. Like something flickered on behind them that Kurr hadn’t programmed in. He said, ‘He doesn’t get this.’ Real low. Like a promise to himself.”
My fingers bite into my palm, the air tight.
“And then?” I ask.
“And then he licked it off,” she answers simply. “My blood. My virginity. Whatever the fuck you want to call it. He brought his fingers to his mouth and dragged his tongue over them. Slow. Deliberate. Watching me while he did it. Then he shifted down the bed and used his mouth between my legs. Not to make me feel good. Not really. It hurt. But he cleaned me. Licked up whatever was there. Marked it his, not Kurr’s, not the buyer’s. His.”
My entire body is buzzing under my skin now, a mess of nausea and twisted, ugly arousal that makes me hate myself a little.
“He wiped his mouth. Stood up. Pulled his pants back on like he’d just finished a training drill. No cuddling. No you okay? He threw my clothes at me and said, ‘Get out.’”
“That’s it?” My voice cracks. “He just—kicked you out?”
“He walked to the door,” she corrects. “Listened for footsteps. Gave me back my stolen keycard. ‘You were never here,’ he said. ‘You tell anyone I touched you, I’ll deny it and you’ll end up on that auction block anyway.’ Then he opened the door and physically shoved me into the hallway. I almost went face-first into the concrete.”
My hands are shaking, so I set the glass down before I spill it.
“Next morning,” she adds, “Kurr had me reassigned. I failed Honeytrap trials. Didn’t have the stomach for it. But I wasn’t a virgin anymore, so the buyer lost interest. I got tossed into other training instead. Different kind of weapon. Hella never looked at me twice after that. Not for years.”
I stare at her. In the casual way she says it, like she’s reciting a grocery list, not the night she handed her last piece of childhood to a boy under surveillance cameras.
My chest twists. “You hate him for it?”
“No.” The answer is instant. Surprising. “I chose him. He did exactly what I asked, exactly how I knew he would. Quick. Clean as it could be in that place. No lies. No pretty words. He was cold as fuck, but he wasn’t Kurr. He could’ve taken more. Hurt me worse. He didn’t.”
She leans in, bracing her forearms on the table, pinning me in place with that look I’ve seen her use on grown men twice her size.
“And that,” she says softly, “is the point of this story, Mel. You see how he is with you? The teasing. The pictures. The jealousy. The way he can’t stop putting his hands on you even when he’s pretending you’re nothing.”
My mouth is dry.
“He wasn’t like that with me,” she finishes. “Back then, he was ice. Orders and silence. You got fucked, you got pushed out. End of file. With you?” Her eyebrows lift. “He’s messy. He’s loud. He’s breaking his own rules. That might not look like romance to you, but for Hella? For a boy built in Vanguard?” She shakes her head once. “That’s him burning.”
The words settle in my bones, hot and unwelcome.
I look at Jada. At the woman who walked into a cage a girl and walked out something else, with Hella’s fingerprints hidden under her scars. Was I jealous? Yes. Annoyingly so. He’s marked her in a way that no other man can, in a way he could never mark me.
I’m ridiculous.
“So,” she says, sitting back, eyes never leaving mine. “You still think he’s just some biker who likes to fuck around and piss you off?”
I don’t answer.
Because the part that scares me most is that I don’t. Not anymore.
And whatever the hell he is, I’m already in it.
Twenty-Four
Melissa
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper after draining my third glass of rum. “You know,” my fingers grasp the bottle, pouring more of the potent liquid, “that doesn't exactly surprise me.”
Laughter bubbles from her as she slides her glass toward me for a refill. “Of course, I didn't take my own advice. I ended up sleeping with him again a few years later. Hella is like a red wine stain, ya know? He just won't hesitate to remind people that he's been there.”
I smile. “I can't comment on the decisions one's vagina makes once it's had a taste of him.”
We both burst out laughing, tears streaking down our face.
I swipe at my cheeks as the sound dies in my throat. “I think I'm drunk.”
Jada nods. “Me too. Your sister usually sleep this long?”