Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“You will break.” He yanks me against his chest. “That’s a promise, not a threat.”
The violence in his touch is undercut by how his thumb strokes my pulse point, how his body responds to my proximity. I use it to my advantage.
“Try me.” I push back against him, making him groan. “Show me the worst of what they made you.”
His grip tightens painfully on my wrists. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
“Then show me.” I turn my head enough to see his face. “Unless you’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” he snarls, biting my lower lip hard enough to sting. “Least of all breaking you.”
His kiss is punishing, all teeth and tongue and barely controlled violence. I match his aggression, biting back, pulling his hair, making him growl. When he pulls back, his eyes are black with desire and rage.
“Time to go.” He releases me. “Now.”
All I can do is shake my head. I’m so confused, and turned on by his darkness.
“This is ridiculous,” I say, shoving the last of my clothes into the bag. “I don’t need a babysitter. Or a jailer.”
“No?” Arson zips the bag with more force than necessary. “Tell that to the men who just proved they can grab you anywhere, anytime.”
“I can take care of myself.”
His laugh is sharp enough to cut. “Right. Like you took care of yourself breaking into my warehouse? Following me around campus? Pushing every button I have?”
“That’s different—”
“No.” He crowds me against my desk, one hand gripping my chin. “That’s exactly the problem. You think you’re clever, think you can handle the danger. Just like you think you can handle me.”
I meet his stare defiantly. “I am handling you.”
Something shifts in his expression.
“Fuck this,” he growls.
Before I can react, he grabs my bag with one hand and throws me over his shoulder with the other.
“Arson!” I pound his back ineffectively. “Put me down!”
“Done playing games.” He strides toward the door. “Done letting you think you have any control here.”
“Someone will see—”
“Let them.” His hand comes down hard on my ass, making me yelp. “Let them all see what happens when you push me too far.” I should be terrified. Should be fighting harder. Instead, heat pools between my thighs as he carries me out of the dorm like a caveman claiming his prize. Maybe this is exactly where I wanted to end up all along.
“This is kidnapping,” I say as he carries me down the stairs, but there’s no real fight in my voice.
“No.” His grip tightens possessively. “This is protection. This is keeping you alive. This is—”
“This is you needing control,” I finish for him, watching upside down as other students scatter from our path.
He stops abruptly, setting me on my feet but keeping me pinned against the wall. His eyes search my face, looking for something.
“You want this,” he accuses softly. “Want to be taken, controlled, caged. Want an excuse to let the darkness out.”
The truth of it hits hard. I do want this. Want him. Want the freedom that comes with captivity, the release of giving up control to someone as beautifully broken as I am.
“Maybe.” I reach up to touch his face, trace the scar along his jaw. “Or maybe I just want to watch you try to cage something that’s already free.”
His pupils dilate at the challenge. “Last chance to run/ Walk away now, and I’ll handle them another way.”
We both know I won’t, that I can’t. That deep down I don’t want to.
“Take me to your warehouse, Arson.” I press closer, feeling his heart race against my palm. “Lock me in your cage. Keep me safe.”
His kiss is bruising, claiming a preview of the possession to come.
When he pulls back, his smile is all predator.
“Remember you chose this,” he says, throwing me back over his shoulder.
As he carries me to the car, I catch our reflection in a window—the psychopath and his willing victim. Except I’m not a victim, am I? I’m choosing my cage, choosing my captor, choosing to fall into darkness with someone who knows exactly how dark I can be.
The Hayes family’s perfect daughter, willingly walking into a monster’s lair.
Mother would be horrified, and that makes it even better.
Arson
The warehouse security system beeps as I enter the entry code, hyperaware of Lilian’s presence behind me. Aries sits in his cell while his stepsister follows me into my private space.
I never considered that I’d have both of them under my roof at the same time. It just doubles the chances of this all going to shit.
“This way.” I lead her through the converted living area, watching her catalog everything with those too-observant eyes. “Touch nothing without permission.”
“Quite the setup,” she comments, trailing her fingers along my kitchen counter like I didn’t just warn her not to touch anything.”Very... domestic for a psychopath.”