Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“FYI, asshole. That kind of talk is only hot when you have me close to coming. Not when you order me around just to get what you want.”
“Suck me, Izzy. I’m in a bitchy mood because you want rid of me. Bring me to heaven and I’ll show you just how much I need and want you baby girl,” C orders.
“Damn it, Caleb. It’s not that I want to get rid of you. We just don’t have a future. I should have never started up with you. I knew better, but I couldn’t resist. Besides, you’re the one that told me you didn’t do serious, remember?”
“I didn’t until you,” he confesses and my heart hurts, because I can tell he’s being honest. Sadly, I can also see why Izzy doesn’t believe him.
“Stop, okay? This is hurting me, too, you know. It’s better we do it now, though—instead of waiting and letting whatever this is get deeper—or worse.”
“What could be worse?” he huffs.
“You remembering that you don’t do relationships and me ending up alone, maybe pregnant because a condom failed?”
“If I knock you up, trust me the last thing I’m going to do is run, Izzy,” he vows.
“I won’t have a man who is just there because I got knocked up. This whole conversation is moot, anyway. We’re over, remember? This is just a final goodbye.”
“Suck me,” he says gruffly, and I hate it because I can feel his pain—that’s another thing that makes these visions so painful.
I keep my gaze on C, doing my best not to watch whatever Izzy is doing. It’s probably a good thing I do, because I watch him as he keeps one hand in Izzy’s hair, forcing her to keep her head down. Then he pulls out a syringe from his pocket.
Shit C, don’t do this. I beg silently. Then I watch as he sinks the syringe into her arm. She tries to jerk away, but he doesn’t let her, holding her with a fierceness that I’ve never seen from him.
“Caleb...”
“It’s going to be okay, Izzy. I promise.”
“What did you do?” she asks, as he takes the syringe away.
“I’m not going to let you throw us away, Izzy,” he whispers. “Just rest.”
“You drugged me?”
“It’s just a sedative. A doctor gave it to me, it won’t hurt you, baby. I just needed to get you out of here without you fighting me.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, baby girl. I just can’t let you go,” he whispers. “We belong together.”
“Caleb…” Her voice cracks, weak. “You drugged me.”
“I just needed time, Izzy. I’ll make it up to you. You’ll see—we’re meant to be.”
I jolt awake, gasping, drenched in cold sweat. My chest is heaving, and for a second, I can still hear Izzy’s fading voice in my head.
“Georgie?” Griffin’s voice is rough with sleep. He sits up beside me, eyes sharp in the dim light. “You okay?”
I shake my head. “Where’s C?”
“What?”
“Where’s C, Griff?”
“At the club, I think. Why?”
“I just had a dream,” I confess, my voice shaking. “In it C went to Kentucky. He drugged a girl named Izzy. He’s kidnapping her.”
He stares at me. “C wouldn’t—”
“Call him.”
“Georgia—”
“I said call him, Griffin!”
He grabs his phone and dials. “Savage, put C on the line—now.” A pause. “When?” There’s another pause and Griffin rubs the back of his neck. “If he checks in, tell him to call me immediately—or I’ll have his balls cut off and stuffed in a bottle for my desk.”
“Griff—?”
He hangs up and redials his phone, muttering curses under his breath. He hits a button putting it on speakerphone, because I can hear the ringing and then C answers.
“Sorry, Prez,” C says. “Can’t really talk. Got my hands full.”
Griffin’s tone goes lethal. “Tell me you didn’t drug the Devil’s Blaze’s princess.” Silence. “Christ, C!”
Caleb exhales. “Brushes had a dream?”
Griffin’s voice is cold as steel. “I told her you wouldn’t do something like that. Tell me I’m right.”
“I used a sedative a doctor friend slipped me. It’s safe,” C says softly. “I mean he fixed the dosage and everything, Griff. She’ll be fine.”
I cover my mouth, tears stinging my eyes.
“C, what were you thinking?” Griffin growls. “You drugged her and you’re taking her? You realize her father and brother will kill you for this?”
“She cares for me,” C argues. “She’ll understand, after she gets past her anger.”
Griffin closes his eyes. “You better pray she does, C. Because if not, you’ve signed your death warrant and maybe those of our entire club.”
The call goes dead.
Griffin climbs back into bed beside me, shoulders tight. His silence says everything.
“I’m too late,” I whisper.
He nods once. “Yeah.”
“Crap.” I lean into him, pressing a kiss to his chest—right over the tattoo of my bite mark—with the words Property of Brushes below it. The ink’s still new, but the skin has healed.
He rests his hand on my belly, the faintest curve of our baby beneath it. “It’s going to be okay.”