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)
Our gazes meet, and I detect sympathy, like when he was fucking me to end my agony.
I’ve had a lot of feelings about Killian Lorde: I’ve hated him. I’ve feared him. I’ve lusted for him. The lust is still there, minus the fear and hate, but there’s something else too—despite his many character flaws, I actually like the bastard. Behind all his abrasiveness and desperate need for power and submission is a man who can show compassion and care, like he did when he insisted I slow down. At the time, I despised him for making me take my time, but my ass certainly appreciates it now.
Yes, I’m realizing Killian’s capable of much more than I give him credit for. He may be a psychopath, but even if it’s just that he wants to protect his possession, it’s good enough for me.
Yet I know the one thing he isn’t capable of…
But the fact that he can’t ever love me shouldn’t bother me, especially now.
I don’t care to think on it, though, so I compartmentalize it, stick it away with all those dark memories I keep tucked far back. It’s the only way to live with them.
“I’m sorry for being so needy back there,” I say, breaking the silence.
“I like when you’re needy, so that’s not an issue.” He cracks a smile.
He’s smiling, after everything I told him?
But his response helps relax me—at least as much as I can, given the circumstances.
“I know you’re close to your brother,” I say, “but I’d prefer to keep this between us for the time being. I need time to sit with this and sort through my thoughts.”
It’s a lot to ask of him, so I’m relieved when he says, “Of course. Do you think she’ll tell Wrath?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past her. I guess I’ll have to play that by ear.” I muse on some excuses I could make to Wrath to buy myself time.
“And how are you feeling about the wedding?” he asks.
It’s strange that, of everything that’s weighing on me, the one thing that has been the source of so much strife the past few weeks—my arranged marriage—doesn’t faze me.
“What about it?” I ask.
“Knowing that our fathers might have deceived us. Has that changed your feelings about your obligations?”
I detect concern in his tone, like it would hurt him if I changed my mind, which throws me. “The opposite,” I say. “I don’t want to believe it, but even if Dad wasn’t as loyal to this family as I’d once believed, that’s not the kind of man I am. And even if this was all some sick way that he and Old Terror could be together beyond the grave, I’ve already had that battle in my soul, and I know this ensures my family’s safety. That’s what matters to me.” As soon as I get the words out, I realize this isn’t only my decision to make, and maybe he asked because of his own fears. “Are you questioning…?”
A jolt of worry courses through me as I consider the implications of Killian refusing, but he quickly says, “Not at all. I already told you, this isn’t about duty for me anymore.”
“That’s right,” I acknowledge, recalling our many fucked-up conversations. “It’s about clipping and training your falcon.”
He gives another stroke of his thumb against my thigh, and despite my uneasiness with his intentions, it’s soothing.
“At least I’ll live in a pretty cage,” I say, my tone laced with bitterness.
“You still think I’m a monster for saying that, don’t you?”
“I thought that when you said it,” I confess. “But maybe a real monster would have thought it and pretended otherwise. Maybe this is just part and parcel of your psychopathy. Your need to control and own everything, even me.”
I should feel violated, like I did the first time he brought it up, yet something about the proposition comforts me, and for once, it isn’t coupled with the shame I might normally feel around it.
Because it might not even matter what Dad wanted for me.
Killian caresses my cheek with his knuckles, then his fingertips. My skin prickles where he touches, like he’s trained my body to respond to him like this.
“I know it might not be any consolation,” he says, “but I’ll do my best to prove I’m a worthy captor.”
Our gazes lock, the fucked-up words feeling so right. Like I’ve been waiting my entire life to be captured by him.
He moves close, offering me a kiss, as though sealing a promise. I kiss him back, releasing for an instant the weight of all the pain and obligations today has brought up.
Killian is my fate. That’s all that matters.
And for the first time, I allow myself to admit it’s all I want.
*
Over the next few days, Killian and I keep busy with wedding arrangements. Mom’s desperate desire to stop our union has only made us that much more committed to it, and along with our business engagements, we manage the planning stages, from cake to groomsmen’s suits to invitations.