Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
He’s completely in control of this situation and he knows it. He probably didn’t even panic when he saw me running down the street. He probably just rolled his eyes and set off on a leisurely stroll to grab me. I was never even close to escaping, but he gave me just long enough chance to let me think I was.
I turn on him, fuming. “You should have just let me go,” I nearly scream. “You have nothing to gain by keeping me locked up like a prisoner.”
“I’m not letting you run back to Mikhail and getting me killed.” He shrugs so casually and unbothered it makes me want to scream.
“I have no intention of going back to him,” I tell him. “But when I do get away from you, I’m going to make sure he knows it was you who took me. I’ll be far away from here and you’ll have to deal with the fallout. You can kill each other for all I care.”
He throws his head back and laughs like what I’ve said is endlessly amusing.
“Your little escape attempt was cute, but don’t start to think you’ve actually got a shot in hell at getting away from here.”
He is so smug and so sure of himself, I raise my hand to slap him. It’s completely involuntary and even takes me by surprise, but not as much as him catching my wrist in midair. The contact is immediate, and so is the electricity that I feel when he grabs me. Heat floods my face and I wrench my wrist away, not needing another injury to deal with.
“It was a valiant attempt, Valkyrie.” He smirks. “I can’t wait to see what you try next.”
With that, he turns back to his control room and leaves me alone. I stare at the front door until two more shadows replace the smoker and the man I hit. In my father’s house, there would be consequences for attacking a guard, but Viktor says nothing about it at all. I glare at his back and hobble up the stairs to my room, prepared to lick my wounds.
7
VIKTOR
Idon’t leave her to stew in her anger very long. I watch on the camera as she rolls up one of her pantlegs and I see the blood forming on one of her knees. I almost feel bad about it, but then again, she did try to escape. A scraped knee is less than any of my men would get for such insubordination.
I sigh and head to the downstairs bathroom where I have a first aid kit stashed. She isn’t going to like it, but she has no other choice but to accept my help. I climb the stairs and hesitate for just a moment before filling the space in her doorway.
“That looks nasty,” I say from the hallway.
She glares up at me, her face stormy. “Some asshole tackled me to the ground,” she spits back.
I hold up the first aid kit like I’m waving a white flag. It isn’t surrender, exactly, but it is something of a peace offering. I really didn’t mean to hurt her.
“I can handle it myself,” she snaps, holding her hand out for the kit.
I could just give in to her demand, but that isn’t how things work around here. She needs to understand that she isn’t the one in charge and she never will be.
“That’s okay,” I say, entering her room without asking. “I’ll take care of it.”
She glares even harder, shooting daggers that I’m sure she wishes were literal. She hates me, and that’s fine. It’s safer for both of us that way.
“Let me look at it,” I say, sitting on the bed to her as close as I dare.
Very reluctantly, she angles her body toward mine, though she still maintains as much distance as she possibly can. He knee is pretty cut up. There are tiny little scrapes all over the surface, and the skin is an angry red where it isn’t broken. It isn’t bleeding profusely, but there are droplets pooling at the wounds.
I pull out a packet of gauze and gently press it against her knee, making sure the bleeding is stopped completely before I try to clean it. She says nothing and barely reacts. I don’t know if that’s a high tolerance of pain or her incessant need to prove her strength. Either way, she continues to glare at me while I take care of her injury.
Once I’m satisfied that the wound has properly clotted, I pull out an antiseptic pad and start gingerly cleaning around the edges. She hisses very lowly, probably hoping that I don’t notice. I do, of course. I notice everything about her.
For instance, I notice the rich shade of her brown hair, and how it seems to absorb light rather than reflect it. I notice that her eyes are an almond shape and the color is just as dark and rich as her hair.