Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Besides the fact that after you turned twenty-four, your scent became identical?” he said.
That had to be a coincidence. Or in his head. My scent, if anything, had mellowed out in my twenties. No more raw-onion, teenage-hormonal stink. “Yes. Besides me smelling less like a taco.”
“I saw her—in every movement of your hands, every smile you offered your intoxicated customers, and every roll of your eyes when your uncle allowed a disease-ridden rooster to prance upon your tables, defecating and cock-a-doodle-dooing.”
“Barney does not have a disease.” Though, he occasionally left behind a few rooster cookies. “But now you know I’m not Anna. Reincarnation doesn’t exist.”
“India would disagree.”
“Stark, I’m not her,” I said firmly. “I don’t make vampires cry when I walk into a room. I am not a martyr or selfless saint.”
“What if I said you were?”
He’d already admitted that I wasn’t. Then again, Stark lied about everything. “I’d need proof.”
He rubbed his chin. “That would require trust.”
“I’m not the one with the problem in that department, mister pants on fire.”
He glanced down. “I fail to see what my jeans have to do with it, but you have lied, too. You have also called for my execution on TikTok. I have weirdos with green hair stalking my mansion at this very moment.”
Oh, boohoo. “The hunter being hunted. How’s it feel?”
“Like DoorDash for vampires.” He licked his lips. “I was not complaining.”
“But you were just comp…never mind.” I sneered. “You’re the worst.”
“Worst. Best. It is all a matter of perspective; however, I am willing to tell you the truth about who you are—what you are—if you are willing to be truthful with me. What did you mean when you said ‘we lost our one chance’? What were you up to?”
This felt like a big trick. He had no intentions of building trust. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be inside a soundproof room. “You need to earn my trust first. Not the other way around.”
“So you admit you are hiding something.”
“I admit nada, Mr. Vampire.”
“I will give you one chance to come clean with me, Masie,” he growled.
I felt a threat coming. “There you go. Building that trust.”
“You kissed another man.”
“After you kidnapped me! Drugged me! And made me think I was a vampire!” I yelled, coming unhinged.
“I was helping you!” he roared.
“I am not a child!” I roared back.
“You are mine.”
“I am mine,” I retorted.
“Very well.” He stood. “I gave you an opportunity to come clean of your own volition.” He walked over to the wall and pressed one of the black satin buttons. The cloth panel popped open.
“I’m not drinking any more of your vampire-brain smoothies, Stark,” I said, thinking there was a minifridge in there.
“No more moonshine for you.” He pushed on the wall again, and another panel opened. Inside were shelves and hooks displaying every sized dildo imaginable along with whips, chains, and leather straps.
My stomach dropped to the floor. “If you come near me with any of those—”
Stark rushed at me in a blur, and before I knew it, my wrists were handcuffed to rings on both sides of the bed. I hadn’t noticed them before.
“Stark, no. Don’t do this.”
“Your choice. Not mine. Though, I will enjoy it all the same.” He chained my ankles, over my jeans, to something at the foot of the bed in each corner, basically leaving my legs open.
“Stark. No.”
“I. Gave. You. A chance.” He stared down, a wicked gleam in his now dark eyes.
“If you rape me, I’ll kill you.”
He laughed. “Did I not tell you once? Rape is very unsportsmanlike for vampires.”
“Then let me go!”
“Not until you come clean. What are you hiding from me?” he snarled.
I glared at him, silently wishing for a meteor to crash through the ceiling and evaporate him.
“All right. But understand,” he said, “you brought this upon yourself.” Stark untied my tennis shoes.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“No! No more!” I yelled, my entire body quaking with involuntary giggles. “I hate you!”
“You asked for this.” Stark ran the enormous feather along the bottom of my foot again.
I jerked and struggled against my restraints, but there was no getting free from these tickles. “Please. Stop. Just bite me! Kill me.” I laughed and snarled at the same time.
“You will have no such mercy!” He feathered my other foot. “Now, tell me what you are hiding.”
“Nothing!” I lied, doing my best to conceal the truth, because Stark had clearly failed my trust test. What if I could still make moonshine? What if Charlie’s people could pull off the plan? The chances were razor thin, but I had to hope.
“I see that the soft approach is not going to work. I must get out the big guns.” Stark dropped the feather and held up his right hand, wiggling his fingers.
“What? Are you going to torture me with a bad magic trick now?” I snapped.
“Not quite.” He took hold of my knee with his large hand.