Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Let’s speak plainly. You made a move on my submissive.”
“I told you I wasn’t going through with it. I could, but I won’t. But it’s interesting that you call her yours.”
“She is. Mine.”
“Does she know that?”
“She will. I’ll make it clear to her. First, I’m going to deal with you.”
“Oh? How are you going to deal with me? Put on your body armor and hunt me the way you do petty criminals in dark alleyways?”
Only St. James would risk baiting me like this. I control my expression, but my lack of reaction is a reaction, and he reads it like front-page news.
“Yes, Roy, I know how you get your jollies. Hunting humans. The streets were my home first, remember?”
And now he’s bringing up his past before I can needle him with it. Exploding my ammunition before I can use it. Typical tricks.
“What is your intention toward Inara?”
“Inara. . .” He draws out each syllable, and I want to punch him for daring to hold her name in his mouth. “She’s lovely. Not my type. I prefer them more. . . compliant.”
I want to shut him up, but I don’t trust myself to move or speak. I’m close to strangling him with my bare hands. I’ve had plenty of practice choking a man to death and quite enjoy it. Such a thrill to be face to face with a victim as the light leaves their eyes.
“She was intrigued enough to come here to speak to me, but it wouldn’t have gone any further. She won’t admit it, but she’s as enamored with you as you are of her.”
This is why St. James is dangerous. He understands people with one look, one glance. He honed this gift early when he had to live by his wits as a street urchin and every hour was a fight for survival.
In one sentence, he tells me exactly what I want to hear, calming my fear and taming the beast. “You think she’s enamored with me?” I keep my voice level, hiding the hope.
St. James hears it all the same. His lips quirk in the closest thing he has to a smile.
“She’s in denial about it. She hasn’t chosen you yet.”
“She will.”
St. James makes a non-committal noise.
The tension in the room unravels.
“You don’t want her,” I say.
He shakes his head. “I want to know why you do.”
I’ve killed with my bare hands. I’ve also used razor wire, and at this moment, I know what it would feel like to have a metal noose tighten around my throat. St. James set this trap for me. But any secrets I allow out into the world can be used against me, and, knowing St. James, he won’t hesitate to use anything at his disposal to destroy me.
And while I’d sacrifice myself for Inara with no hesitation, anything St. James knows about us puts her at risk, too.
But I have to tell him something. And he’ll know if it isn’t the truth.
I weigh the consequences for another second. “She’s. . . like me.” My throat is tight.
He blinks slowly, a sign of shock. He didn’t expect me to lay myself bare. But I’m a man obsessed. What do I have to lose?
“Do you know her safe word?” I ask. I’m about topull out my phone and show him, but he’s read her file and obviously memorized it.
“Eliyra,” he says. “It’s the name of the town where she was born and raised.”
“Where her family was murdered.”
He inclines his head.
I put away my phone. “I know what it’s like to go through what she went through. I understand the depth of her loss, and she understands mine.” This is the truth, but it’s no secret. I keep going, sharing more than is comfortable. “She keeps her pain around her like a monk’s hair shirt. I want her to let me be the one who tortures her instead.”
St. James is perfectly still, listening. I’m appealing to him, one dom to another, and I know he understands. There’s a reason he has a stake in a BDSM sex club. His kink is similar, if not darker, than mine.
“I will give her the pain she craves, good pain. And help her to bear it.” Here in the room where Inara and I first met face to face, it’s easy to channel the emotion into my voice. “She was made for me. And everything I’ve done, everything I’ve become. . . I know now it’s because I was made for her.”
That’s it. I’ve bared my jugular. I’ve shown him everything.
I stop speaking, waiting to see if it’s enough.
Maybe this isn’t all about me. St. James enjoys power of all types. In his head, he might have appointed himself Inara’s guardian to require me to pay a bride price.
I’ll pay it, though, gladly. And if he’s a threat to her, I’ll snap his neck, business be damned. He has his wits, but I’ve trained like a warrior. It’d be a fair fight, but I would win in the end.