Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Looking through several drawers, I take out cufflinks to study them before putting them back into their organized little cubbies, rolling my eyes at the T-shirts folded with precision and sorted by color until I find a worn wool sweater. I take it and pull it on. It’s like a dress on me and I try not to notice the faint scent of his aftershave.
My mind instantly conjures up the image of him crouched before me, hands on my hips, eyes at the level of my pussy. That’s followed by the sensation of his tongue on me, licking me. It wasn’t a small taste, either. It was full on. It was him putting his stamp on me. Him letting me know he could do whatever he wanted to do to me.
I strip off the sweater and toss it on the floor. I want something that doesn’t smell like him, so I take a button-down shirt out of a plastic dry cleaner’s bag instead and wonder if he sends everything out to be cleaned or if he does his own laundry. I recall his bare feet. How strange it had looked to see them. How common place. Like he’s human.
No, Allegra. Cassian Trevino is not human. He’s a monster.
I walk out of the closet and into the bathroom. The door has a lock. I’m grateful for that. It’s beautiful, modern, just as the closet was, but in keeping with the building with the same stone and marble I’d glimpsed in the main church. There’s a large glass-walled shower with old fashioned brass fixtures and a separate tub. Needing to wash his touch off me, I decide to have a shower. I slip the shirt back off and step under the flow of water. As soon as I take the lid off his body wash and sniff it, though, I know it’s in vain. His scent is everywhere.
I don’t shampoo my hair, but scrub my body, trying to ignore the ache in my pussy when my fingers move over it. I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to touch myself in his house, in his shower, with him on my mind. Hell, he’s probably got cameras in here and is watching me now. I scan the corners of the room, paranoid, but don’t see anything. Still, I hurry and dry off, then put his shirt back on, rolling up the sleeves until my hands are free, and buttoning the top buttons. Since I only see his toothbrush on the edge of the sink, I rinse my mouth with the mouthwash and forego brushing my teeth. I braid my damp hair and walk back into the bedroom half-expecting him to be back, but he’s not. I glance at the door, but decide it’s smart to heed his warning, at least tonight. I don’t want to confront him again, not yet. I’m too tired. I go back to bed, switch out the light and lay down, looking at the huge stained-glass window on the opposite wall, taking in the scene of St. John baptizing Jesus. It's beautiful. And I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but I smell incense. No, it can’t be. No mass has been held here for decades. And Cassian Trevino is certainly not the church-going type. Hell, he converted this beautiful part of our town’s history into his private home. I can only imagine the things that have taken place here. In this bed, even. I mean, who has leather restraints in his nightstand drawer?
I’m curious to look inside that drawer and see what else he has, but I shake my head and tell myself I shouldn’t want to know. I turn onto my side and reach back to make sure my hair covers the back of my neck, my fingers brushing the marks. They almost feel like normal skin, not raised or anything, at least not the old ones. They heal over time. It’s barely been a week since the last ones, though. It’s a spot chosen with care so no one would see.
But someone did see.
I think about Amal and Daniel. Although we’re not related by blood, they’re like brother and sister to me. I’ve known them all my life. Malek worked with my father for as long as I can remember. Even though I don’t trust him, at least I know he’ll keep his own kids safe. He won’t let Cassian get to them.
My mind wanders to my brother. How long will it take Michael to pay Cassian back? What did he do exactly anyway? And what did Cassian say? Not to get my hopes up? What did that mean?
Although I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, somehow, I feel myself drifting and I don’t fight it. I welcome the oblivion of sleep.
6
CASSIAN
Allegra Moretti is missing a finger. That’s unusual and unusual is an understatement even in our world. I need to dig deeper into her family’s history. And on top of that, some of the marks on her neck are fresh. Only days old given how red they are.