Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
I’m so tempted to text back, How’s your hand? Just to push his buttons. To remind him that I’m not afraid to fight back.
But I don’t.
What if that one text pinpoints my location? What if he traces it? What if he already has?
By now, he’s done a deep dive into Wolf’s digital footprint. Wolf said he didn’t exist until six months ago, but his birth records, social media activity, hospitalizations, employment info at the tattoo shop—all of that will be used to track me down.
Not to mention, his billionaire father. Won’t be hard to determine which island Monty Novak owns.
I clench my fists and curl up beneath the blankets.
What scares me more than Jag is the stranger who pulled me out of the storm and dragged me onto his island of Alaskan gods. The stranger with ocean eyes and lickable lips.
Wolf talks about death like he spent a lifetime flirting with it. The same guy who made sure I had food, a place to sleep, and a door that locks.
He hasn’t tried anything.
Hasn’t pushed.
But he could.
The part of me that’s terrified of being touched again is still imagining his hands on me.
I hate that.
I hate how drawn I am to a man I don’t know, can’t trust, shouldn’t even want.
But there’s something about him. Something broken and brave. Something so deliciously wild. It calls to the worst parts of me. The reckless, self-destructive parts that scream for chaos when what I need is silence.
I close my eyes and grit my teeth.
No.
Nope.
Not again.
I didn’t run from one manipulative asshole to fall into the arms of another pretty disaster. I don’t care how captivating his eyes are. Or how solid his chest felt under that worn black shirt.
I need to get a job.
I need to get revenge on Jag.
I need to build a new life somewhere far, far away, where no one knows my name, where I can be more than the girl my brother tried to break.
Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll forget what it feels like to want someone who could shatter me all over again.
I toss and turn and pull the blanket over my head, shutting out my past, my thoughts, and my attraction to toxic men.
I won’t respond to Gavin or Jag.
For now, that’s the only power I have.
I wake slowly, immediately assaulted by plaguing questions.
Why do vegans hate plants so much if they’re all about protecting nature? Is it the same reason they pretend to enjoy kale? Who hurt them?
And if civilization is so advanced, why is toilet paper still the best we’ve come up with?
Why are some people still insisting we all came from one incestuous family? First with Adam and Eve. Then with Noah. The God of the Bible made incest necessary for human existence to continue, and I’m really struggling with that.
Am I supposed to just get over my childhood trauma because the tyrant of heaven is pro-incest?
Nope. Nuh-uh. His Holiness can fuck right off with that.
I groan.
Overthinking should come after coffee, not before pants.
Opening my eyes, I find Leo beside me, propped on one elbow and staring intently. His gold eye glints with mischief, and his blue eye just looks lazy and dumb.
“Sweet icy goatballs.” I shove his face away. “Ignoring personal boundaries is my thing, you creep. Get your own thing.”
“Morning to you, too, Sleeping Beauty.” He flops to his back and drums his fingers on his chest. “Thought you’d want to know your bride is on the dock. Looks like she’s making a run for it.”
“What?” I jackknife to a sitting position, pulse racing.
“Seems your little runaway is eager to run away from you.” He stretches and yawns. “Can’t say I blame her.”
“Dammit.” I scramble out of bed, hot panic surging through my system.
“Relax.” He follows me into the bathroom and leans against the doorway while I piss. “It’s not like she has keys to the yachts. Apparently, she prefers yacht-jacking to asking for things.”
I keep my back to him and strip off my shirt, hiding the scars that mar my chest and abdomen. Stepping quickly into the shower, I angle myself so he can’t see the damaged skin. “She’s not a thief.”
“You sure about that?”
She stole my cigarette last night. Not the same as hot-wiring a yacht.
I lather up in record time, anxious to find out how much hell she’s managed to raise without me.
“She was up before the rest of us, sneaking around the yachts as if hoping to find a key.” Leo chuckles at my back. “The woman on the dock looks nothing like the bride you brought home last night.”
I pause mid-rinse, still shielding my scars from his gaze. “Explain.”
“Nah.” He crosses his arms. “You gotta see this for yourself. I will say… The reboot is way more your style.”
“Stop being a cryptic bitch and tell me everything.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”