Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
When he raises his eyes from the notebook to me, I see the tick in his jaw. He doesn’t like being called Reaper which is surprising. I guess I wouldn’t think he’d care.
I hold my breath and wait for his reaction, but a moment later, it’s gone. He’s schooled himself to give nothing away. It’s the opposite of me. I feel my face burn up because I remember how he looked at me last night. How he held me. How he felt inside me.
Shit. I need to not think about any of those things.
I try to focus on eating although it’s hard to get food down.
“Is Michael right?” I ask, needing to get back on solid ground and that means me on one side, Cassian on the other.
“About what?” he asks, but I know he knows what I’m asking.
I swallow, but force myself to continue. At least it’ll stop him looking at me that way. “Did you kill your brother?”
He clenches his jaw so hard, it must hurt. “Tread lightly, Moth. Remember what I told you. My patience only goes so far.”
Tread lightly. I should heed his warning, but I’ve never been known to do what I should do so we have a staring contest which I lose. It’s a relief, though, to look away.
“Finished?” he asks the instant I do.
“Yes.” I slip off my stool without looking at him.
“You’re not dismissed.”
At that, I turn my glare on him and watch as he reaches into his pocket and takes something out. He sets it in front of me. It’s a single pill in unnecessarily large, pink packaging and it makes my heartbeats slow to thuds against my ribs. I drag my gaze up to his.
“Morning after pill,” he says.
So, he is acknowledging last night. I look down at that pill annoyed with myself for allowing him to get the upper hand again and again.
“Swallow it,” he says.
“I’m on birth control,” I say automatically although considering my screw up with days, it’s not a bad idea.
He takes the package, pops the pill out and holds it out to me. “Swallow it anyway. It won’t do any harm.”
I look at it, then at him. I reach for it, pop it into my mouth and swallow it dry. “Satisfied?”
“Open.”
“What?”
“Open. I want to be sure.”
“Why? Because you think I secretly want to have your baby? When hell freezes over, Cassian. When hell freezes over.” I walk away, but stop, turn back to face him. “In fact, why don’t you just go straight to hell where you obviously came from!” I stalk back toward the bedroom because I have no idea where to go, but I need to be away from him.
He doesn’t just let me walk away though. Of course he doesn’t. He follows me, grabbing my arm, spinning me to face him. “You must not have heard me, Moth. I told you to open your mouth.”
“No, it’s you who didn’t hear me so let me put it another way. Go fuck yourself, Cassian Trevino.”
I tug free and walk away, but he mutters a curse and when I glance back to find him stalking after me, I run into the bedroom, yelping when I go to slam the door, but it bounces off his foot. It must hurt his bare foot because he grabs it and mutters a curse, glaring at me all along. I make it to the bathroom, slam that door, push the button lock not sure why I think that might keep him out. If it slows him down for a second, it’ll definitely piss him off which I don’t think I want.
“Open the door!” he demands, but doesn’t give me a chance to act. Instead, he must slam his full weight against the door because it shudders and I back up, and when he does it again, the wood splinters, then goes crashing against the wall and Cassian stands there all huge and angry as hell and exactly what I thought when I first laid eyes on him.
Brutal.
I scream as he grabs my arm, hauls me out into the bedroom and tosses me onto the bed then straddles me.
He forces my mouth open, fingers digging into my jaw and peers inside and only releases me once he’s sure I’ve swallowed the pill. His eyes meet mine and he must realize how insane he’s acting because he gives a shake of his head as if he was arguing something in his head, then slides off.
“I hate you, you know that?” I sit up, rub my jaw. There will be bruises in the shape of his fingers.
“Why didn’t you stop me?” he demands, looking at me accusingly. “Last night. Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Are you serious?” I ask, not quite believing what I’m hearing. “So, what happened last night is somehow my fault?”