Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
When he hears my quiet shudder, he dips his head, and I imagine he’s closing his eyes. His entire body goes still, save for a slight tremor in his gloved hand before he clenches it. I get the sense he’s fighting something else now.
Something that lives inside him.
Instinctively, I know that demon is the one who controls the lethal energy pouring off him. I think he’s attempting to cage it, and he hasn’t yet won, but it gives me some semblance of relief. Because I know, even without seeing his face, he doesn’t want to hurt me.
A minute passes before his breath rises sharply and releases on a rough exhalation. It feels all too familiar—trying to harness and control a chaos nobody else can see. I understand it on a bone-deep level, and that common thread chips away another piece of my reservations.
As the tension in his rigid muscles slowly dissolves, he unclenches his fist, flexing his fingers before he turns and lifts his gaze to me.
“Close your eyes and cover your ears, Gabi.”
My heart pulses wildly at the recognition of that modulated voice, relief filling every cell in my body.
Eros.
My mind reels with questions, but they scatter as he approaches. He crouches in front of me, seemingly aware of my struggle to move as he takes my hands in his.
“You’re safe now. I won’t let them hurt you.”
As my gaze drifts to the men strewn across the boat deck, I wonder what he did to them. Eros pulls my focus back to him, drawing my hands up to cover my ears. Once he’s satisfied that I’ll be able to hold them there, he rises.
“Close your eyes.”
I do as he says, squeezing my eyes shut as my palms cover my ears. Even so, it doesn’t drown out all the noise. There’s a sliding sound, followed by what I think is a hatch opening, and footsteps echo off the stairs. It goes on for a while, until everything becomes muffled.
When he returns to me, he drapes my hands over his shoulders and lifts me into his arms. My legs wrap around his waist as he grips my thighs and adjusts me, my head falling naturally against his chest.
All four men have disappeared from sight, presumably below deck.
A fleeting thought enters my mind about who this man is and how he overpowered them so easily, but it slips away as he carries me off.
After a few minutes, I realize he’s retracing the same path I took from the penthouse.
As if he can sense me piecing this together, he repeats the same steady assurance.
“You’re safe now, Gabriela.”
Maybe I shouldn’t believe it, but something in my gut tells me I can trust him. I may not know exactly who he is, but I’ve talked to him every day for months, and he’s never made me feel unsafe. In fact, the opposite is true. I’ve felt comfortable enough to share my most private thoughts with him, and that doesn’t happen often.
There are still unanswered questions, like how he knew where I was tonight, or how he knows where I live. But considering what would have happened to me if he hadn’t shown up, they don’t seem as important right now.
The walk back to the penthouse goes quickly, though I’m not sure how he does it without breaking a sweat. It can’t be easy to carry an entire person that distance, even if he’s built like he was sent to earth to destroy it. His body is so solid, I haven’t felt so much as a tremor in his muscles.
As my head rests against his chest, I let my gaze wander the length of him. Beneath those dark clothes, I can only imagine there’s a gladiator—someone built for predation and violence. He could probably crush my windpipe with just a few of those fingers, and his shadow alone could blot out my entire existence.
It should probably terrify me, but my brain hasn’t gotten the memo.
Heat radiates from his body, easing the chill in mine. With every step, I breathe in the faintest hint of something woodsy, like cedar and cloves. He’s not wearing cologne, so I suspect it’s a lingering trace of soap. It reminds me of a winter night, the crisp scent of fresh snow and the cozy warmth of a fire.
I close my eyes, letting that imagery imprint on me until we reach my building. When we do, I realize that he might just leave me here, and a hollow ache settles in my chest. After what just happened, the idea of being alone unsettles me.
He seems to sense that fear, perhaps because I’m squeezing him so tightly, and offers me some reassurance.
“I’m taking you inside.”
I release the breath I’m holding, barely registering him withdrawing the keycard from my wristlet. When he taps it against the keypad, the door buzzes open, and he stalks through the lobby with a familiarity I choose not to acknowledge. There’s only so much I can deal with in one night.