Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
He lay on his side and leaned his head on his elbow. “Very noble of you.”
I raised my chin. “I’m serious, you arrogant ass. I don’t take handouts. I work for what I have so an entitled prick like you can’t take the credit.”
“I believe you.”
I tightened my grip on the blanket. “So you’re going to let me go?”
“No.”
I stamped my foot. “Dammit! What the hell, Greyson!”
He chuckled. “You really are adorable when you’re angry, like a bird with ruffled feathers, hopping about on their little feet, squeaking.”
I turned my head from side to side.
He frowned. “What are you doing?”
I marched over to the bureau as I said, “Looking for something to throw at you.”
I considered my options.
He quirked an eyebrow as he tilted his head to the side. “Not another one. Must you?”
“Yes, I must,” I fired back as I selected the nearest vase displayed on the ornate bureau.
It was a shame. As a glass artist, I admired the ghostly image of the forest painted on the frosted glass. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was a Daum Nancy from their Art Nouveau period, early twentieth century. Even as a knockoff, it was a pity to shatter it, but it would be worth it.
I turned and raised my arm.
Greyson was there.
He pressed his tall, naked frame to mine.
Stretching up his arm, he easily snatched the vase out of my hand. “Can’t let you break that one, little one. It’s a pâte-de-verre by Almeric Walter and irreplaceable. If you want, I can call for one of the servants to bring up some cheap glass for you to throw about.”
I stared as he carefully set it back on the bureau. That meant it was a Daum Nancy. “You know about glass art?”
He backed me up against the wall. “Admit it. I just got even sexier.”
I’d rather cut off my right arm than admit it, but he kind of did.
“You tried to kill me.”
He hooked his fingers in the blanket between my breasts. “I’ve told you, it wasn’t a serious threat.”
“Are you ever serious?”
He tried to pull the blanket down. “I’m serious about wanting to see your gorgeous breasts and suck your nipples. I’m dead serious about hearing you scream my name over and over as I feast on your pretty pussy before fucking you within an inch of your life on a nightly basis.”
I resisted. “I’m serious. Can’t you be serious for a minute?”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re seriously asking about me being serious.”
I cocked my head to one side and met his dark sapphire gaze. “Seriously?”
He leaned his forehead against mine. “It’s not working, is it?”
Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes, but I fought them. I hated crying—hated the idea of giving Greyson that kind of victory.
I closed my eyes. “No.”
He’d been trying to distract me all night. The problem was, I couldn’t stop.
Madison was my best friend.
She was like a sister to me.
We were each other’s only family.
I would never stop fighting for her.
He could fuck me sideways and lay on the charm all he wanted. Eventually the rain would stop, dawn would break, and reality would come with it.
My best friend was being framed for murder. The man who framed her had helped her escape. The man she supposedly murdered was alive. And the man holding me captive had helped plan the whole thing for reasons I was certain had something to do with Madison.
He cupped my jaw and looked down at me without saying a word.
All the humor had left his eyes.
His lips tightened into a straight line as a muscle high on his cheek twitched.
“Have you changed your mind? Are you going to kill me now?”
CHAPTER 40
MADISON
Isat up so quickly a wave of sudsy water sloshed over the edge of the tub. “How did you get in here? I locked the door.”
He stood there, silent, staring at me.
My towel was out of reach, and I had no washcloth.
I sank low in the water and scooped an armful of bubbles up to my chest. “What do you want?”
A flash of lightning illuminated the room as Pierce stepped forward. The Tudor grid pattern on the windows shadowed his face in slash marks.
A bandage covered the gash on his forehead. He’d changed into a dark blue robe.
My eyes flickered to the mirror as he passed. My fevered imagination half expected him not to have a reflection. If ever I was to believe in vampires, now would be the moment.
My heart beat so fast my head spun.
I drew my knees up to my chest. “I want you to leave.”
He stalked closer to the tub.
His arm stretched out.
Mesmerized, I watched his long fingers dangle over the water’s edge before dipping just below. His touch sent ripples along the surface, as if the very water was trembling from the contact.