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)
In my mind’s eye, the shadows rear over us, cascading in layers of darkness, all-consuming.
“Come,” he orders me, and I do, clenching around the vibrator in my pussy and his cock in my ass. The climax obliterates my sight, my senses. There’s only my brutal Master leaning over me, telling me how beautiful I am. Gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises, erupting inside me and setting off another round of orgasms. Leaving me satisfied and fully claimed.
Inara
I’m warm and safe, wrapped in a masked man’s arms. But a noise makes me rise out of the bed and walk out of the bedroom.
And then the bedroom and the man are gone. I’m walking up to a city brownstone flanked by maple trees where a few yellow leaves cling to the bare branches. I slip past the creaking gate and climb the brick steps. There are a few brown spots on the stoop. I pause, hearing the crackle of police radios behind me. But there’s no one around. I’m alone.
Someone put a fall-themed wreath on the front door. A touch of home, but the door has been left unlocked and ajar. I step up to it, and it swings open, revealing a long hallway and another set of stairs.
I can hear a terrible drip, drip, drip, growing louder. I know what left those brown spots on the stoop, but there’s nothing I can do with that knowledge.
I reach for my gun, but my holster is empty. I can’t stop for backup, though. I have to go on.
There’s a handprint smeared on the wall. It looks like a child’s finger painting until you smell the tang of rust.
And then I see it, pooled on the wooden steps, seeping out from under the rug.
Blood.
I know what happened here. I can sense the family that lived here—mother, father, two sons.
Without seeing, I know their bodies will be hogtied, the cords cutting into their flesh. I know how their eyes will stare at the ceiling, unseeing. I know their throats will be cut.
I know how this family died.
And once again, I’m too late.
I come awake with a gasp, clutching at the coverlet. Grasping for what’s real.
“Inara.” Rex is beside me. He touches me, and I jerk but then lean into him. “What’s wrong?”
I reach out to touch his face. It’s still dark, and I’m half-trapped in the horror of the dream. I trace his forehead, eyebrows, down his cheeks. Reassuring myself he’s here.
He seems to know what I need. “It’s okay,” he rumbles, scooting closer and letting me mold my palms over his bare chest. His dense muscles, the familiar smoothness of his skin and scars.
At last, my heartbeat slows. I’m no longer trapped in the terrible vision. I’m in bed with Rex, naked but clean, sore but sated.
Rex catches my wrists when I retreat. “What happened? Was it a dream?”
I nod, unable to speak. I touch my throat, and my fingertips glide across smooth metal.
I’m still wearing the collar. Its slight weight soothes me. Which is a sign of how far gone I am, submitting to Rex.
“What was it about? You can tell me.”
“I can’t,” I choke out. “It’s too horrible.”
“Then just be with me.” He folds me into his arms, and I let him draw me down onto the bed. Wrapped in him, the intensity of my vision seeps away. The picture warps; the colors fade and flow away, replaced by Rex’s warmth and solid presence.
This is everything I’ve longed for. Everything I haven’t allowed myself to want.
It’s wrong of me to lie here with him and allow it. “I shouldn’t be here.” I make a half-hearted attempt at rolling away.
Rex responds as I knew he would by trapping me half underneath him. “Wrong. This is the only place you should be.” His dark eyes glitter as they move over me, taking in my nakedness and the collar. He runs a finger along the metal circle and covers it with a possessive palm. “Inara, don’t be afraid. You can tell me anything.” His thumb tips my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. I expect to see dominance or madness, but he’s giving me a soft look that’s devastating in its gentleness.
I came here to entrap him. But he’s trapped me. Not with chains or rope but with his compassion.
I want so badly to tell him about my visions. To share the secret I’ve carried for so long.
The night the Bondage Killer came for my family, I had a vision of my family’s impending death. But I lay there in my bed, knowing the horror was coming, and did nothing to stop it.
My dreams aren’t just dreams. They’re visions. I dream of people’s deaths, and it happens. It’s happened over and over. My parents, my brothers, and then my grandmother and aunt. All of them dead after I had a vision of their demise.