Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Alexandra was crying—sobbing as though a damn inside her had broken. The sobs shook her curvy body, her voice high and broken.
“Please,” she wept, her face crumpling as tears streamed down her cheeks. “It hurts too much, Brandt. I just want to go home! Please!”
Something inside him shifted.
The Rage still roared—still begged for blood—but another part of him, a deeper, older, stronger part, answered.
No vengeance—not now. She doesn’t need a killer—she needs someone to heal and comfort her. She needs you.
Brandt forced air into his lungs, each breath like swallowing fire. He clenched his fists, shaking with the effort to hold back the need to destroy.
Slowly, painfully, he mastered the Rage. The red haze thinned, though his eyes still burned with its glow.
Alexandra needed care—not violence. He could avenge her later. Right now, he had to comfort her.
“It’s all right now, baby,” he heard himself saying. “I won’t let anyone else hurt you—everything is all right.”
He gathered her into his arms, lifting her carefully from the broken stocks. She was trembling, her skin damp with sweat and tears. He cradled her against his bare chest, being careful not to jostle her too much.
Her scent—fear, pain, and the faint sweetness of nectar—clung to him, calling to the Rage, but he held it down with iron will. Later for that. For now, he had to get her out of here.
What was left of the crowd parted at once, their whispers hushed, their four-eyed gazes averted as he carried her down the dais and through the public square. None of them dared meet his eyes. Even in their ignorance, they recognized the danger that still radiated from him. The heat of his Rage and the promise of death, clung to him like some violent perfume.
Step by step, he carried her through the market, his boots silent on the moss-carpeted bridges, her weight nothing to his strength.
Mine to protect. Mine to care for. Goddess forgive me, I failed her once. I won’t again, he swore to himself.
At last, he reached their rooms. He shouldered the curtain of flowering vines aside and strode inside. Gently—so gently, though his hands still trembled—he laid Alexandra on his own moss-padded bed.
The curvy little human curled onto her side, weeping softly, her face pressed into the blue leaf sheets.
Brandt felt his heart fist in his chest. He stood over her, chest heaving, his eyes still hot and red with the remnants of Rage. His fists were clenched at his sides and his jaw was tight.
Poor little human! How could they treat her like that? How dare they hurt her, those fuckers?
He had never wanted to kill so badly…but he had also never wanted to comfort so much.
32
LEXI
Lexi curled on the moss-padded bed, clutching the leaf sheets in trembling fists. Her whole body felt raw, scraped hollow by humiliation and pain.
She should feel safe now—Brandt had come for her, had ripped the stocks apart with his bare hands—but shame sat like a stone in her chest. Everyone had seen her. Staring, jeering, pointing…and the thing inside her…
God, the thing inside her still hurt so much.
She shifted, a sharp ache lancing through to her core. She bit her lip to keep from whimpering. It was wedged deep, the rough nubs grinding every time she so much as breathed.
How will I ever get over this? How do I go back to normal after being displayed and tortured like that?
And how could she get the painful metal dildo out of herself? When Brandt had tried to pull it, she’d felt like he was yanking her insides out! She couldn’t take that kind of pain again—it was too much.
“Alexandra…sweetheart…” The big Kindred’s deep voice broke through her thoughts.
Lexi blinked and looked up to see him looming over her, his big frame tense, his eyes still faintly red from the Rage. But the fury was gone now, replaced with something that made her throat ache—worry.
He knelt beside the bed, brushing her damp hair back from her face with a tenderness that undid her.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rough with anguish. “I’m so sorry—so fucking sorry I didn’t come for you in time. So sorry they hurt you.”
Her lips trembled. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but the words stuck in her throat. All she could manage was a shaky nod.
He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead—so careful it was like he was afraid she might break apart under his touch. Then he stood and crossed the room. She heard water trickle and the sound of fabric being wrung out.
When he came back, Brandt held a cool, damp cloth. He laid it gently over her swollen eyes and hot forehead, his big hand cupping her cheek. The chill made her gasp, but then relief seeped into the burning skin around her eyes.