Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Sensing my hesitation, his lip twitches. “Camille!”
What the fuck!
My knife swings toward her, and he fills the space where her throat had been, blade tip pressed to his chest again.
My head jerks back. Of all his bullshit, this is what I’m most pissed about?
Who cares… I just am.
“You fucking protect her?” My voice lifts on the end.
“Oh shit…” Leon mumbles. “Someone should stop her.”
“Fuck no! Leave her.” That’s Khloe.
I shove him hard, he stumbles, and we both land on the floor. His laughter turns maniacal.
“You fucking done yet?” He spits blood on the floor, giving me a crimson smirk.
Shoving off him, I press my own fingers to my side, blood pulsing through the gaps.
I stagger upright and head straight for the couch where my other blade dropped.
Blood seeps through my shirt. Each step pulls, but adrenaline keeps me moving. I will not show weakness.
Asher props himself up on one elbow.
His grin spreads, then vanishes the second his eyes hit my side.
“Tell me that’s my blood and not yours?” he sneers. The crazy version of him gone, buried beneath the possessive asshole I know.
The blade flips in my palm like a trick, but Asher moves faster.
One hand catches my wrist and twists it inward. His other locks over the steel, gripping until skin splits. Blood wells between his fingers where the edge bites into his palm.
He wrenches the knife loose and it clatters across the concrete.
I’m about to swing a right hook when his full weight drives me to the ground, knocking all the air out of my lungs.
With one knee jammed into my hip and his bleeding hand pinning my wrist to the floor above my head, he holds me there like he’s afraid I’m going to bolt.
“Since I’m gonna go ahead and say your fucking stitches have torn,” Asher grinds out through his teeth, “and to limit the risk of you actually fucking bleeding out and killing yourself, I’m gonna spill some fucking facts.”
The floor drops out from under me.
His breath catches, but he keeps me still.
“I’m fucking sorry.” Asher shakes his head. “That I lied, that I hid shit from you, and that I’m a fucking disappointment, but mostly? Because he is your father.”
The words spread through my veins like poison.
“You can fucking kill me after for all I care.” His forehead skims mine. “But this time? Do a better fucking job because I can’t live with the fact that you hate me, Venom.”
Before I can punch him again, his fingers close around my wrist, deadlocking me mid-swing.
Asher…
“Let me go.” It hurts. Everything fucking hurts. “Let me the fuck go—” A hiccup cuts in. “I hate you. I fucking hate you—”
“No, you don’t,” he replies with too much calm for someone I just fucked up.
He catches my other wrist, forcing both above my head until there’s nothing left between us but his bare chest pressed to mine.
“I’ll kill you.” Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision. “I swear to God, I’ll—“
“You won’t.” The words are warm against my mouth. He’s everywhere. His weight and his scent pulling me back from wherever I’d gone.
“Let me go.” My voice cracks around the rock in my throat. “Please.”
He swallows, wincing. “Never.”
His grip tightens on my wrists, his other hand sliding into my hair, tangling in the strands and pulling my head back until I have no choice but to look at him.
Blue eyes stare down at me, steady, his split lip still bleeding where I hit him.
“I told you.” His thumb strokes along my hairline. “I’m never letting you go.”
A shudder runs through me, and my hands go loose against his chest.
“He was my father,” I sob, sniffing. “How could he?”
Asher’s arms tighten around me. “I know, baby. I know.”
It sounds ridiculous, to mourn a man who was a monster all along, but the little girl who thought he was the world had no idea what he was.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My fist hits his chest, barely enough to feel it. “Why didn’t you just—“
“Because we couldn’t! We didn’t know what the fuck his trigger was. No one did but him!” His hand cups the back of my head, pressing my face into his neck. “Fuck, Ivy. I lived one million different deaths and I’d live two million more if it meant you no longer lived in the house he built.”
He taps my head.
I chuckle, mimicking Emeric’s tone. “There was a house that needed to be built, but first, it needed the foundation and the walls, strong enough to keep everyone and everything out. Until it was time to play house.”
I shake my head. The rhyme was there the whole time and I never saw it. “He built my mind as a house and focused too much on the construction of it while Nonna was filling it with love. Humanity. Friends, and family traditions…”