Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Theo starts the car and pulls out into traffic. The only sound in the car is my heart hammering in my chest. I am his song.
He can’t stab his song in the chest!
“How did you know?” I whisper, not wanting to be stabbed in the chest. But if I’m honest, it already feels like that’s what he’s done.
He gives me a quick, menacing sideways glance, the one where he bares his teeth a bit. “I smelled you. The second I walked through my door, I smelled your fucking scent.”
Scent. Hmm … most experts solve crimes with fingerprints or eyewitnesses. Nope. Theodore Reed is a bloody hound dog. That’s why I like to work from my flat where no one can smell my scent.
“And there was a fucking plant in my tub.”
Phoebe. How did I forget her? Oh, that’s right … I had a bag of weapons that needed to be hauled to my car.
He pulls into a parking spot outside of his flat and shoves my car into park. “If you run, I will catch you and it won’t be pretty.”
The last time he caught me, it changed everything. Our nothing became a very real something. I don’t think if I run this time it will end with him worshiping my body in the shallow moonlit waters of the Atlantic.
“I mean it. Whatever you thought you knew about me no longer exists. I’m not that guy. If you want to live, you’d better let every fucking memory go. They are all dead.”
Who is this man? I physically feel nauseous. I came here because I didn’t want to live without him, only to find out it’s the only chance I have to live at all. Bloody great.
“Wait right there.” He gets out and walks around to my side and opens the door. “Get out.”
I get out, feeling quite wobbly.
“Ow!” I groan when the tip of his knife digs into the small of my back.
“Shut up and walk.” He leads me into the block and into the lift.
I blink back my tears. This cannot be happening. I’m his song. His tears didn’t need to fall for me to see them. I saw the emotion—the love—in his eyes when we made love. It was hard and brutal, but it was love. Painful … beautiful love.
“Hold the elevator!” a voice calls.
I reach out to push the open button, but Theo yanks my arm back. The frantic woman, with her arms full of groceries, manages to make it in time to stop the doors with her foot.
“Close call.” She smiles stepping into the lift. Then she frowns. “Are you okay?”
Theo scowls at the tears running down my cheeks then his face softens. “Her grandma died.” After tucking the knife into the back of his trousers, he cradles my face and wipes away my tears with his thumbs.
“Fu—” He cuts off my “fuck you” by kissing me. I can sense the woman’s discomfort with our display of affection that is not at all fitting for grieving the death of a loved one. I try to push him away, but he grabs my wrists and backs me against the wall, shoving his tongue further down my throat.
The lift stops on the third floor.
“Uh … sorry about your grandma.” She hurries off and the doors close.
He pulls away, both of us breathless.
Smack!
My hand connects with his face. He narrows his eyes and reaches for the knife but pulls his hand back without it as the doors open to the fourth floor. I tumble into the lifeless hallway with his hand clutched to the back of my neck—hard—guiding me toward his flat as my feet stumble to keep up. After unlocking the door, he shoves me inside, sending me stumbling to the ground. The door slams shut, and he locks it as I scramble to my feet.
This man has crushed my heart. I’m not even sure it’s still beating. Reaching around, I press my fingers to the area on my back where he held the knife to me. It stings. Holding my hand out, I focus on the blood. It’s not a deep cut, but it’s still bleeding.
My gaze lifts to his, but he’s staring at the blood on my fingers.
I wait.
I watch.
Show me the slightest twitch of regret, Theo.
“You cut me.”
Cold, hard eyes snap to mine. “You followed me. You broke into my apartment and stole my things.”
“I’m your song.” I tip my chin up and bite back my emotion.
He shakes his head. “You’re nothing.”
I look down, hiding from the hate in his eyes while focusing on the blood as I rub my fingers together. “You’re worse than the cancer.” I don’t care about the cut, even if I were bleeding to death. We are dying and that is … indescribable.
When I look up again, the muscles in his jaw flex as he returns his gaze to the blood on my fingers.