Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
That side of him doesn’t scare me anymore.
“We’re almost there,” he promises.
“Almost where?” I demand, irritated and more than a little nervous. Anxiety tightens my stomach, and a familiar, giddy thrill races through me at the hint of fear.
“You’ll see.”
“Dane.”
“Abigail.”
I throw up my hands and ignore the way that stern, deep tone makes my core heat.
We’ve been driving through the countryside on a narrow, winding road for nearly an hour, and the sun is setting.
The headlights turn on, illuminating a twilight-dim turn onto an even narrower driveway. We pass through open iron gates.
Is this another family estate?
After a further five-minute drive, we slow behind a line of other cars. Ahead, the vehicles curve around a circular driveway in front of a grand, sprawling house that almost rivals the Graham family manor.
My jaw drops.
He’s going to take me somewhere public? Where I could ask someone for help?
I narrow my eyes at him. The arrogant bastard must think I’m beyond that now. He must’ve decided that I don’t want to escape from him.
I cross my arms over my chest.
Don’t I?
I’m no longer sure if I do, but my heart longs to return home to Charleston. I can’t stay in this surreal state with Dane forever. No matter how much I’m coming to care for him, I can’t just abandon my life. I won’t live to suit his every whim. If I choose to stay with him, that’s not how it will be between us.
He’s insisted that he wants me so many times. Not a mindless, obedient pet.
He hasn’t even called me pet in weeks, not since I crashed the Jeep during my escape attempt.
I almost miss the kinky endearment.
I press my lips together to hold in further questions. I’m not sure what I want to say.
And I’m not sure what I’ll do once I’m surrounded by people who could possibly help me get back home to Charleston.
Without Dane.
We come to a brief stop behind a yellow Lamborghini.
He takes the opportunity to turn toward me and grasps my hand. He lifts it to his lips and brushes a gentlemanly kiss over my knuckles. For a moment, he’s my dashing, perfect prince again: the man I fell for all those weeks ago.
Then his wicked grin reminds me that he’s a rakish villain, too.
They’re both the same man. Exactly how I used to fantasize about him when he was just a customer, an untouchable, beautiful god.
His thumb brushes my palm. “I trust you, Abigail. I trust in us.”
My heart skips a beat.
If I betray him now, he’ll end up in prison. I’ll never see him again.
The thought makes my stomach knot.
“You’ll need this,” he says, releasing my hand.
I instantly miss the reassuring warmth of his tender touch. My fingers furl and unfurl, as though grasping for him.
His attention is on something in the glove box, so he doesn’t see my involuntary, embarrassing display of desperation.
Something glints in his hand: a golden masquerade mask.
His soft fingers brush my cheeks as he lifts it to my face, and his touch is so alluring that I don’t try to pull away when he fixes my mask in place. It covers my features from my cheekbones to my brows. Someone who knows me well could probably recognize me, but a stranger won’t be able to make out all of my features.
Dane puts on his own mask. Unlike mine, it’s black, but it glints dully like carbonite. It only covers the upper half of his face as well, but it’s been molded to subtly mirror the shape of a skull.
He looks like a beautiful demon, some sort of terrifying incubus that’s designed to lure me in and ravage me.
My mind flashes back to a different night when he donned a skull mask. It’d been stark white, and it’d completely concealed his face.
I shiver, but I can’t stop staring at him: my dark god.
“Are you frightened?” he asks, voice low and intimate.
“Yes.” The affirmation shudders from my chest.
“Are you turned on?”
My cheeks heat, and I glance away, hiding from him. Hiding from the truth.
Two fingers curl beneath my chin, and he redirects my gaze to his. In the dim lighting, his eyes are almost black, enhancing his aura of otherworldly danger.
My heartbeat ticks up a notch, and I feel an answering pulse between my legs.
“What are we doing here?” I ask instead of answering his lewd question.
He traces the shape of my mouth with his thumb, and my lips tingle with sensual awareness.
“I’m going to remind you of how it should be between us. I’m going to give you what you really want.”
“Dane…” His name is a protest. I can’t bear it if he forces himself on me again.
“You have your safe word,” he promises. “Use it, and everything will stop.”
I shake my head, so he cups my cheeks to still the sign of my fearful denial.