Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
“The artwork will be the one setting the pace, lass. I’m just the dirty mover.”
She fans her face for a moment, catches herself and grows visibly embarrassed. Fuck, she’s adorable. It’s physically painful to be ten feet away from her. I want her close, whispering erotic confessions in my ear again. No, this time I want to sit her in my lap and bounce her on my knee while she tells me how she’s planning to torture me.
Thankfully she does end up a step closer. Two. Hesitant though they are. “How did you end up here? All the way from Scotland?”
A pointed object forms in my throat. I try not to show my knee-jerk reaction on my face, but I know I’ve failed when she frowns and comes a touch nearer. There is no choice but to be honest with her. Already I am a murderer in her midst, the bringer of her grief—accidental or not. I will not add to my offenses and then expect her to trust me.
“My parents moved us here when I was wee—about thirteen. Back in Inverness, my father was a police officer. He’d put away some bad men and they were threatening us. This was going to be a fresh start. They’d even promised me a bunk bed. But the bad man’s network was too far reaching.” I keep my features schooled, though the horror of that day unfolds in my head, fresh. As if it happened last week. “They were murdered on the way to our new house from the airport. I never did get to see the house they’d bought. I knew I had to…disappear. That I wasn’t meant to survive. I only got lucky because I was lying down in the back seat.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her voice like a reverent prayer in a church. Hushed and holy. “Duncan, I can’t imagine what it was like for you.”
“Can you not imagine it, lass?” Taking a chance, I take a stride in her direction, bringing us a few feet apart. “Where are your parents? Why were you left to your uncle?”
Thea is silent for several moments. Then, “They are free spirits. Sometimes I’m sad that they left me here. Sometimes I’m resentful and mad. But a lot of the time, I’m grateful. That I don’t have to shoulder the guilt for holding them back. I’d rather they just go and be happy.”
“Generous angel.” I slip here, allowing too much of my infatuation to leak into those two words. They emerge guttural. Hungry. A man on the verge of pouncing and licking and gorging. But she only inclines her head gently, spearing me with a look of authority. And I force myself back into line. “And your uncle. Was he good to you?”
“He wasn’t perfect, but he gave me a home.” Then she says something that swipes claw marks into my stomach. “I loved him in my own way.”
And I killed him.
The very sight of me was the only weapon required.
If the man was still alive, someone else would have come in my stead to do the job. He was marked for death. After watching them interact that first night, I almost consoled myself with the belief I did Thea a favor, entering her uncle’s bedroom that night. Intending to talk, to negotiate Thea’s freedom, but doing far worse instead. Knowing she loved him, I wish I’d stayed away. I betrayed my angel before we ever spoke.
I’ve never experienced remorse, but I do now.
It brands itself on my gut.
Why did I not stop to consider more carefully what I was doing? Now it can’t be taken back. Now I have this hideous secret from the person who inspires the most honesty inside of me. The girl who has been open and truthful with me in return.
I stare down at my murderer’s hands. “Thea…”
She unties her robe.
I hold my breath, my dark thoughts vanishing,
She drops it, the slinky material slithering to the marble floor.
A ferocious, heaved sound blasts out of me at what she reveals.
She is wearing lacy lavender panties that are cut so fucking low, I can see the beginning of her pussy slit. And a thin, silky black tank top that brushes her navel. She is compact and curvy and tight and tiny. So goddamn young. If we’re splitting hairs, she could be my kid. But our age difference doesn’t stop me from wanting her smooth, sexy thighs flexing and tightening around my head. Doesn’t stop me from wanting to impregnate her on the floor, come and virgin blood mixing together and dripping down her ass cheeks.
And then.
Eyes squeezed shut, she whispers. “Kn-kneel.”
My knees land so hard, so heavily, they shake the ground beneath us.
Every demon inside me is called to heel in the wake of her shy, girlish command.
“Good,” she breathes, her expression brightening with awe, with appreciation for the feeling it gave her when I didn’t hesitate to obey. “Now follow me.”