Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Blah, blah.” I throw my hands up. “That’s all I hear when you talk. Do this, do that. Blah-fucking-blah.” Turning around, I drop the towel to the floor, not even caring that he’s seeing me naked. I grab a flower-patterned dress and slide it over my head, then throw the rest of the things scattered on the floor into my bag, not bothering to fold them.
I don’t know how to take him. It’s not like he’s constantly hot and cold. He’s cold more than anything, but then sometimes he’s warm.
“Movers will be at your apartment later today. I have a meeting when we land, and tonight you’ll come to an event with me so I can declare you my wife.”
“Declare?” I scoff. “What am I, some prize?”
“Let’s go,” he says, taking my bag from me. He strides out of the room, not bothering to hold the door for me.
Biting my lip, I nibble on the skin as I follow him.
What have I gotten myself into?
Why does he have to declare me his wife?
That sounds fucking weird, and I don’t get it at all.
He doesn’t speak on the way to the airport. Hell, he doesn’t even talk during the flight. It’s awkward and silent, and my phone can only entertain me for so long.
“We should discuss who you’ll be fucking,” I blurt. I’ve seen his gaze flick to my bare legs a few times before focusing back on whatever it is he’s doing. He puts his phone down in his lap as he gives me his full attention. “So, clearly, the waitress wasn’t your type. She would have fucked you, you know.”
“I wasn’t going to fuck the waitress.”
“Can you fuck, or is there something wrong with your…” My gaze drops to his crotch.
“My cock works perfectly fine. If you want to test it by wrapping your mouth around it, then by all means, feel free.”
“That would be a hard no,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I am a lady after all.”
“I’m sure ladies don’t go around killing people.”
I wave a hand at him. “They should; it’s fun.”
“Is that all?”
“No. I want to know who you will be fucking.”
“You,” he answers.
“Nope. No can do. I draw the line at living with you and sharing your bed. I’m also keeping my apartment. I have a lot of things there I love.”
“It will all be coming to my house. Even your aquarium.” My eyes widen at his pronouncement. “Yes, your aquarium,” he says, then goes back to completely ignoring me as he looks back down at his phone. I want to snatch it out of his hand and throw it across the plane. Or better yet, smash it against his goddamn head.
“I. Am. Not. Fucking you.”
“You will,” he says, seemingly confident about it and unbothered by my insistence to the contrary.
“No, I will not.” I cross my arms over my chest as the captain announces that we’ll be landing shortly. I buckle myself back up and then glare at my husband.
He pays me no attention whatsoever.
Asshole.
TWENTY-TWO
BOSTON
Tonight is an event for the wives of the Forsaken Society. We don’t have these events all that often, but when we do, they serve a purpose: to keep the members happy and united. Obviously, tonight will be the first time I’ll be attending. I’ll be walking in with Maven on my arm, and the ring currently in my pocket on my finger. Even if she refuses to go, I’ll fucking carry her in.
Victor texts me to say he’ll be in the city for the next hunt, which means he is considering becoming a member.
“Someone is taking out our members,” Soren says. Arlo nods, and Reon just sits there, not even caring. “Two members have been killed within less than two months of each other,” he adds. “It can’t be a coincidence.”
All eyes turn to me. The bar we’re in is closed, but a bartender is here to serve us. Though he’s waiting out back as we talk.
“Any leads?” Reon finally talks.
“I’m onto something,” I reply noncommittally.
I don’t plan to tell them I have the killer. Or the fact that she’s my wife. I had considered telling them during this meeting, then figured I would wait until the event. But I also won’t lie to them and tell them I don’t know who it is, because I want to protect her, which is funny, given what she is capable of.
“Victor is in,” I tell them.
Soren smiles, happy with the news, and Arlo says, “Victor, as in fucking skin-your-body, crazy Victor?”
“Yes.” No point denying how crazy he is.
“Can he be trusted?” Reon asks.
“Yes,” Soren and I say at the same time Arlo barks, “No.”
“I’ve worked with clients like him. He is not to be trusted,” Arlo explains.
“He is, and you will all play nice,” Soren warns, then looks at me. “He’ll be here for the next hunt?”