Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
The laughter that ensues assures me that what I felt was a trump card doesn’t go as far as I might’ve hoped. Besides, anyone foolish enough to have abducted me likely already knows that the Lordes have our back.
“Jaime, get Krychek treated,” the man whose voice I recognize says.
Why can’t I place it?
In any case, sounds like Krychek is Knife Guy, and he got what he deserved by pulling that blade on a Wilde.
The door opens again—Jaime and Krychek leaving?—and I’m wondering if the guy who stunned me is alone with me, or if he’s got other guards here with him.
“I should apologize for the way you were handled.”
He’s drawing closer, and he sounds so fucking familiar.
My captor, now standing behind me, removes my hood, and I see the room first, a dimly lit space that looks like a large office or study. Black walls, antler chandeliers, and candelabra sconces suggesting a Gothic design, seemingly intended to give the feel of a dungeon. I recognize the space and realize who my captor is even before he faces me. Killian fucking Lorde. Heir to his father’s enterprise and one crazy motherfucker—he’s the son of Old Terror, after all, and if that name doesn’t tell you all you need to know, I don’t know what will.
Old Terror and my dad had their heyday, powerhouses in the underworld. The stories about our fathers have become legends as the two of them, together, played out a battle worthy of the gods against the most perverse and sadistic men and women of Fury as business mixed with jealousy, sadism, and revenge. Old Terror’s advantage was his psychopathy, and he committed heinous acts in the name of his family and mine.
Despite our families’ blood-stained past, Killian is known as a much less brutal crime boss. Or perhaps we’ve simply been in a relatively tame period in Fury’s history.
While I’m exposed and a mess, Killian’s dressed to the nines in a suit and bow tie, his slick, jet-black hair gelled almost to points in his bangs, sharp enough maybe that if it swiped past me, it could draw blood. A mischievous grin overtakes his smooth face, something sinister lurking in those dark eyes, matching the mood of this dungeonesque study in his family estate of Rothguard.
Killian is masculine beauty personified. I’m only attracted to women, yet even I can acknowledge he’s the sort of sexy that sets off all the alarms. No beauty like this can come without a price, and though his vision of a face alerts moths to the danger of the fire they move toward, I’m sure few mind the burn if it can bring them closer to it. Tonight, there’s something more menacing to it than I’ve seen before, his lips parting slightly as if to say, Eve, would you care to try the fruit of this tree? It’s throwing me off since we aren’t enemies, which is likely why I didn’t connect the voice to my captor, despite having heard it plenty of times through the years.
“It’s been too long, Log. How are you doing, you sly fuck?” He folds his arms as he approaches, clearly keeping his motives close to his chest.
“The devil never shares his plans until it’s too late,” Dad used to say.
I eye him skeptically. I can’t imagine all this to-do was for any good reason. “Very confused right now.”
He winces. “Confused?”
“About why your guys took me from the good fuck I was having, carried me off into the night, and brought me here.”
“They followed my orders not to harm you or your family, which obviously, as a Lorde, was my primary concern. I hope you appreciate that.”
“What about what they did to my guys? Lowes? Hayes?”
“They’re perfectly fine. Told them I had a special secret surprise for you.”
“And they bought that?”
He shrugs. “We’re allies.” He studies me, his expression turning dark…or really, darker. “They did ding you up a bit.”
“Not like I wasn’t fighting back.”
He grins. “Of course you fought. You want something to drink?” He asks that as if I’d simply come for a visit, not like he’d just abducted me.
“I would rather get to the point of why you felt the need to interrupt my night. I can’t imagine it’s because you wanted to have a little chat.”
“Then you’re wrong. I do want to have a chat. But not a little one. A big one.”
He heads over to the bar area, picks up a bottle of whiskey, and pours himself a glass. He takes a swig, taking his time, reveling in this power he has over the son of Ian Wilde.
I wait for what I feel like is too damn long for him to give me a reason why he’s got me here before finally saying, “Okay, seriously?”
“I like you, Logan. You’ve always had a certain charm about you, even when we were younger.”