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)
She’s petite and curvy in all the right places, but she isn’t weak. Up close, I’m more aware of just how taut her muscles are. I’ve seen the evidence of her fighting, but seeing the way her feminine muscles ripple under her skin, I understand just how much she’s trained in her life. She was never going to be a damsel in distress if she could help it.
I grab a tube of ointment and cautiously rub it into her skin. This close to her, I feel like my body is on fire. The touch is completely innocent, but I don’t want it to be. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I come to terms with a dangerous truth. I want to ravage her. I want to feel every strain of her strong muscles and watch as she completely surrenders herself to the pleasure only I can bring her.
“I think that’s enough,” she says coolly, bringing me out of my thoughts.
I realize I’m still rubbing the ointment on her skin and nod, pulling out a Band Aid.
“What else?” I ask, staring at her.
She watches me with hesitation, not willing to budge. “That’s all,” she lies.
I know it’s a lie, because I see the scrape on her elbow as well. I grab her arm tentatively and hold it out, as if I’m presenting evidence to a jury of my peers.
“Don’t lie to me, Anya,” I warn. “Not about this or about anything else. I don’t take kindly to liars.”
“And I don’t take kindly to kidnappers,” she shoots back. “Or murderers for that matter.”
“You can levy every crime I’ve ever committed against me, Anya,” I tell her. “It won’t make any difference. I am who I am and I’ve come to terms with myself. It might be easier for you if you come to terms with your situation and accept it.”
“I’m never going to accept this,” she says, yanking her elbow out of my grasp.
She holds her arms to her chest and I can see the faint lines on her wrists where she was bound the other night. I reach for her hand, and then take it when she doesn’t offer it. I examine her wrists, taking in the angry red welts that encircle them.
“Do these hurt?” I ask.
“No,” she lies again.
She has a very simple tell when she lies. Her voice goes up ever so slightly. A man who isn’t an expert in reading people may not notice, but it’s so obvious to me.
“So, what exactly was the escape plan? Where did you think you’d go?”
I rub the ointment delicately on the angry welts and she sighs heavily.
“There was no plan.”
Lie.
I hold her wrist just a little tighter than necessary, forcing her to look up at me.
“You’re a terrible liar,” I tell her.
She glares at me.
“You’re a terrible person,” she quips back. “And a terrible host. Who could blame me for wanting to get the hell away from here?”
“Are the accommodations not to your satisfaction?” I ask, smirking.
“In general, I don’t appreciate being held against my will anywhere,” she seethes, yanking her hand roughly out of mine. She tries to cover up her wince as she holds her injured wrist, but I see it. She would hate to know that I saw.
“Would you run back to Mikhail?” I ask. “His plans for you are no better than a prison sentence, I imagine.”
She looks up at me in surprise, her anger still on the surface.
“I wasn’t going back to him,” she snaps.
Finally, some truth. At least, she believes it’s the truth. What she doesn’t know is that there’s no way for her to reappear anywhere in Brooklyn without Mikail’s men descending on her. This is the safest place for her now.
“So, you would have disappeared?” I ask curiously. “Escaped into the abyss without anyone noticing?”
I don’t mean to sound mocking, but it’s amazing that she could be caught up in such a delusion. She knows this world as well as I do. There’s no escape.
“I had options,” she answers vaguely.
“You had fantasies,” I correct.
Her eyes flare at this, but we both know I’m right. I set the antiseptic down and lean back slightly on the bed, giving her some space. She keeps her arms crossed, guarding the scrape on her elbow like I’m going to somehow make it worse.
“Anya, I’m not your enemy,” I say as gently as I can. “Even if it feels that way, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Then let me go,” she hisses back, her eyes dark and narrowed at me. “You have no reason to keep me here other than a misplaced sense of pride. If I’m in danger from Mikhail, so are you. You let me go, that danger goes away. It seems like a win for both of us.”
“It’s not,” I huff, shaking my head. “You’re being naïve. You think Mikhail isn’t going to tear the city apart looking for you? You think you’re getting out of this state—hell, out of this city—without him dragging you right back to his compound? Grow up.”