Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Once dressed in a skin-tight mini dress Ash had chosen, she followed him back to the bear den. He’d gotten a text from the others that told him to hurry, so she twisted her hair into a messy bun of curls and rushed after him. She wasn’t letting any of them ditch her after all they put her through today.
“You could have let me find shoes.”
“You look cute in the socks.”
The socks were thick wool that stretched to her mid-thigh, about six inches below where the dress stopped. There would be no bending over in this outfit.
When they reached the den, she’d hoped to find out something new, but it was just a lot of shop talk and logistics. She ended up dozing off on the sofa by the window and when she woke up, Ash and Stone were gone.
Marigold groggily sat up and stilled when she realized Hunter was still working at the desk. “Oh.”
“Enjoy your nap?”
“Um…” She brushed her fingers over her lips and sat up. “Yes.” Slipping off the couch, she tugged down her skirt, but not before Hunter got a glimpse of what was underneath.
His head remained bent over his work, but his eyes followed her every move.
“I’ll just…” She edged toward the door. Why was she explaining herself to him? She rushed out of the den and back to her room like a scared little rabbit.
Lights that were usually off were suddenly on. And music pumped softly from hidden speakers. She frowned at the pre-party ambiance and wondered where the others were. Several vases of fresh flowers had been set on surfaces throughout the house. And the furniture smelled of fresh polish.
She visited the room where Stone had taken her the day before. A steady thump spilled into the hall, alerting her that someone was in there. Then she heard heavy masculine grunting between each beat.
She entered the dungeon-like room they called The Cave silently, her eyes combing over every shadow and apparatus, until she saw the source of the sound and her lips parted. There, on the far wall, stood Stone. He faced away from her, his back a map of swollen muscles and sinew. Sweat glistened on his tanned flesh as Ash swung a whip, several feet long, into his back.
She gasped, as the whip snapped over Stone’s back. Ash turned and stilled. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Eyes wide, she looked up at Stone’s splayed body in horror. “What are you doing to him?”
Stone’s shoulders bulged and heaved as he caught his breath, arms suspended overhead. “What the hell, Ash?”
“Sorry. We have company.”
Stone craned his neck, but couldn’t quite turn. “Who?”
“Marigold.”
She rushed to Stone. “Are you okay?”
“He’s fine.”
“I wasn’t speaking to you. And why do you have him tied up like this?”
Ash caught her arm when she got too close. “You can’t be here right now.”
“Let go of me.” She looked back at Stone, as he hung his head and caught his breath. The bunched muscles of his back glistened under a sheen of sweat, pulsing with each labored breath.
“You want to chime in here, bro?”
The room silenced except for Stone’s heavy panting. “Go.”
“But—”
“He said go.”
She stepped back at the lash in Ash’s voice.
She didn’t understand why he was hurting him. Had he broken a rule? A whip seemed such a harsh punishment. She couldn’t just walk away and do nothing. “Stone?”
“Please, Goldilocks. Just go.”
She blinked hard under the weight of confusion and retreated to the door, shutting it softly behind her. The crack of the whip sounded, and she flinched as if it stung her own flesh. She rushed away from the door, overwhelmed by how twisted things could sometimes get in this place.
Alone and unsure what to do with herself, she went to the kitchen, where she searched the tall wine fridge and selected a vintage chardonnay. Sometimes, when life got overly complicated, the simplest solution was a glass of wine.
She took the glass to the library and sat down with her Russian dictionary. By the end of the glass, she made it to the B’s. Not much was sinking in—mostly because her thoughts were distracted with worry for Stone—but she was starting to notice patterns in the language.
The door opened, and Hunter stepped in, so focused on whatever he came to find, he didn’t notice her curled up on the wingback chair by the window.
Book on her lap, glass in her hand, she stayed perfectly still and watched him search the shelves. For once, he didn’t radiate intimidation. He was calm and as unthreatening as a grizzly wandering the woods. Like every room he entered, this became his natural domain.
He pulled a book down, so utterly uninhibited in his quiet habitat, so relaxed. But the moment he turned away from the shelf, and spotted her, his disposition changed.
His gaze froze on her like a predator spotting prey. An invisible wall erected between them. A hierarchy of the food chain that announced where they both stood.