Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
I can still see her sitting on the edge of her desk, sharp eyes piercing mine. “You think Fabien is scary, and you should. He rules this region of Corsica with an iron fist. But you haven’t met Thayer, his much scarier brother. They call him The Savage and say he doesn’t have a conscience. But Lyam? The youngest?” She’d blown out a breath and shaken her head. “He’s the scariest of all.”
It wasn’t until later that I realized why, but it was in that moment I felt the pull toward Lyam. I couldn’t explain why. I still can’t. But as soon as she told me about him, something pulled at my heartstrings.
That was obviously a mistake.
It’s quiet in here. So quiet, I can’t hear a single sound outside the door. It feels as if I’ve just switched on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones. The effect is strange, and a bit unnerving, as if my inner thoughts have been magnified.
I realize with a start that he’s made this room soundproof. What else has he done in here?
“So this is where you take your victims?” I say, trying to sound all brave and sarcastic, but I’m finding it harder to pull that off.
He laughs humorlessly as he walks to the small desk and reaches for the black bag. “Victims? No, Cosette. A victim implies the person I hurt doesn’t deserve it.”
I think about my reasons for what I did. My mind races because of what’s at stake.
I don’t care if he hurts me. I don’t fear pain. But I’m not the only one on the line here.
I think about what he can do and what he can’t, not without causing harm. He’s already implied he won’t lean heavily on any kind of impact play, as we’d call it at the club.
There’s no playing here, though.
He could spank me or whip me, and I’m sure he’ll use that at some point, but he already knows what I can take. Being punished when it isn’t a form of sensual play is very different, however.
I saw him give Claude a merciless beating, and it wasn’t the first time. I can’t imagine even angry, Lyam would do that to me, though.
Or would he?
I turn away from him when a lump forms in my throat. How could I have ever thought he was anything but a monster? Why was I so attracted to the wounded bad boy?
I watch as Lyam extracts a thin, flexible leather strap, coiled like a snake. He lays it beside the bag and reaches back in. Next, a set of clamps, followed by a bottle of liquid I can’t identify. Something silky and black joins the rest, along with a ball gag and a portable kit for melting hot wax.
My stomach begins to churn acid.
“You really gave this some thought,” I say nonchalantly, aware of the bitter edge to my tone. “Or is this just your little bag of tricks you keep packed for date night?”
No response. He only continues to unpack the bag as if looking for something and he won’t let my chatter distract him.
I watch him remove a velvet bag the length and size of a vibrator, something else that looks like a small violet wand, and a pair of metal handcuffs.
“I think the deluxe package of the Fifty Shades date kit has a feather and a mask…”
Still no response.
He doesn’t need any of these tools, though. Lyam is strong and devious. He could do plenty just with his mouth and hands alone.
God.
I have to steel myself against this.
You’ve overcome worse than this, I tell myself.
This won’t last forever.
If he was going to kill you, he’d have done it already.
Would he, though? I remember him telling me that those who commit the worst crimes deserve to be punished before they die.
My heart beats so fast I feel nauseous. Is that why I’m here, then? So he can kill me?
If you were anyone else, we’d have killed you already.
I thought he meant they’d spared me because they knew me. Or maybe even because I’m a woman. Now, however, I’m rethinking this. Maybe he meant they needed to punish and torture me before they killed me?
He could kill me and dispose of me, and no one would even try to stop him.
I look at him in a new light.
I look at those strong, powerful hands that have been over every inch of my body. Masterful, sexy, manly hands that know exactly what I like.
Hands that have pulled triggers to kill, beaten human flesh, wielded knives to cut through skin and sinew.
Another wave of nausea roils through me.
“Now,” he says, turning to face me with a length of rope. “Let’s pick up the conversation. Where were we?”
“I have to use the bathroom,” I blurt out.
He rolls his eyes and a corner of his lips quirks sardonically. “Nice try.”