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)
“Aries,” I breathe. “Please—don’t stop. Please. Please.” I grind against him harder, his thigh taking all my weight as I try to get the friction I need. So fucking close.
Someone shouts my name outside, and we both freeze. My eyes fly open, and I meet his gaze, unable to look away from the utter devastation on his face.
“No,” I whisper, but it’s too late. He’s already sliding away, my wobbly legs barely holding my weight. “Aries…” I call out to him, knowing that this will end badly.
“Don’t,” he snaps, the word sharp as a slap. “Don’t fucking say my name like that.”
I flinch, all the pleasure fleeing as my stomach starts to twist into knots. His voice isn’t steady—it’s fractured.
Cracking open under the weight of something too twisted to name.
“You shouldn’t have let me,” he growls, eyes locked on me like I’m the devil herself. “You should’ve fucking screamed. Hit me. Fought me off. Anything.”
I swallow, shame curdling in my chest. “Why would I do that? I want you. Want this. Us.”
He looks at me like he hates me—no, like he hates himself for needing me.
“This what you wanted? To tempt me to the point of breaking? To see what would happen if my control shattered?” he rasps, stepping closer. “Well, congratulations. You’ve finally fucking ruined me.” He grabs the side table and hurls it across the room.
Wood and glass explode against the wall. I scream, stumbling back, instinct telling me danger is imminent. “Still think I’m your fucking fantasy?” he shouts. “Still think you’re the exception to all the broken shit inside me?”
He stalks toward me, and I back away until the back of the sofa leaves me with nowhere else to go. I’ve never been afraid of Aries, not once, but I’ve also never seen him like this. He doesn’t touch me, but then again, he doesn’t have to. His presence is a weapon—coiled rage and heat and something darker than lust. The kind of darkness you don’t crawl out of.
“You don’t belong to me, Lilian. You belong to anyone who wants you bad enough to wait for you to open your legs. That’s all it took, wasn’t it?”
I gasp. “That’s not true—”
He cuts me off, his eyes dead. “Don’t lie to yourself. I only had to breathe on you, and you crumbled. You think this makes you special?” His voice drops, becoming quiet and cruel. “I’ve fucked whores with more self-control than you.” My heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest. Why would he say that? Then he turns his back on me like I’m trash. Like he’s done with the conversation. “Get out.”
“Please…”
“I said GET THE FUCK OUT,” he bellows, his voice a storm that tears through the room. For half a second, I hesitate, thinking maybe I can fix this, but then I catch a glimpse of the soulless look in his hazel eyes, and I know there is no coming back from this.
With tears on my cheeks and my body aching from his touch, I run away, slamming the door behind me. But even as I put distance between us, I know no matter how far I run, the truth still follows me. He didn’t hurt me because he didn’t care.
He hurt me because he does, and he’d rather destroy me than admit the truth.
Aries
Night of the Graduation Party
If my father taught me one thing, it’s to always be the most manipulative person in the room, even if all you’re doing is biding your time, watching and waiting.
Especially if you’re doing any of those things.
That would be easy enough if there were something or someone to watch. Unfortunately, no one is here. Just me and the numbing silence. Terrible things happen in the silence. When it’s quiet, you have time to think, and thinking leads to despair and questioning.
It’s a way for your brain to distract you from the impending doom that’s about to take place. I don’t need to distract myself. I was born for doom.
I glare at my surroundings, trying to piece together fragments of my memory.
Where the hell am I?
It’s a strange mock-up version of a doctor’s office, minus the padded shackles. There’s one connected to each of my ankles with a chain hooked to the wall. I give the shackles a tug with both hands. Nothing. Reinforced, then.
Well, shit. This gets more fucked up by the second.
The length of the chain is barely long enough to reach the small cot and toilet in the corner. This isn’t a room. It’s a fucking cell.
Very few people would be stupid enough to do this…which only leads me to believe it’s a prank. Of the people I can think of, off the top of my head, my three friends are idiotic enough.
“Okay, assholes, the joke’s over. You win,” I yell, scanning the room for anything that looks like a camera or speaker.