Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“I can’t believe Dad thought this—”
“Your father was smart, just like mine.” His tone is severe, as if questioning their rationale insults their memory. “Because they both knew nothing would protect you more than being blood with us. Nothing means more than blood and bonds in our world. With us being together, no one can touch your family.”
He’s right. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“You certainly haven’t had an issue touching me tonight.”
He studies me again, his gaze lingering in a way that makes me want to hide.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
“Looking at my future husband like I want to fuck him?”
“Stop saying that like it’s serious!”
He moves close, getting in my face, taking me by the chin, asserting his dominance. His expression is stoic as he hisses out, “Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking I’m not being serious.”
A chill rushes through me, and I swallow a lump in my throat. His gaze shifts to my Adam’s apple, and I’m thinking he’s about to lean forward and bite my throat like a vampire. Looking into those nearly black eyes—Old Terror had these same eyes—it’s not hard to see why our rivals fear him. He’s wild, unpredictable. Just like he’s being tonight by bringing up this marriage crap like we could possibly be serious about it. And yet…he’s frighteningly serious. Disturbingly serious.
“You signed this document, and I don’t care if you meant to or not, you are holding up your end of the bargain. This is you.” Still holding my chin, he displays my signature once again, forcing me to face the truth. He leans so close, I can smell the hints of citrus and pine in his cologne and the whiskey on his breath as he says, “And now you are mine.”
2
KILLIAN
My future husband is a vision; there’s no denying that. Not when he’s naked, on full display for me.
Even more intriguing was how he bashed my guys’ faces in to save himself. I respect his fight. I respect that he continued resisting even when I strung him up, even now as I show him there’s no backing out of this arrangement.
Old Terror always said that as long as I could respect Logan, that would be enough, and I’ve never doubted his wisdom. Although, I was surprised to hear Logan denying knowing what this agreement he signed was about. I always assumed we didn’t discuss it because of how awkward it would be. I initially thought his insistence was a ruse to get out of it, but maybe he really didn’t read it—not that that changes anything. As a fellow firstborn, Logan knows what it means to be responsible for his family, and from his reputation, I have no doubt he’ll rise to the challenge. This is something else we share, something that’ll make this arrangement work. We understand our obligations because of our positions in our families. We understand that sometimes what must be done involves setting aside everything, even our own happiness.
He struggles with his restraints, and given the futility of his other attempts, I figure it’s not an attempt to escape, this time, but frustration at the situation. As he shifts about, a dark lock falls into his eyes, and he jerks his head to the side but doesn’t manage to get it out of the way. “Killian, can you just let me out of these?”
He focuses his blue gaze on me. A beautiful blue…not cerulean or aquamarine… Cobalt is the closest I can think of, but darker, with white specks within it, making his irises resemble turbulent waves in the deep ocean, crashing against one another in a violent storm. Apt for a Wilde.
“You think I’m foolish enough to let you go after the hassle I just gave you?” I ask with a chuckle.
He sneers before a subtle smirk plays across his lips. “You afraid you can’t take me?”
Apparently, he knows how to get a rise out of me because I’m half tempted to release him so I can hand his ass to him, but I stop myself. One of the many gifts my dad gave me was the ability to think through situations before being hasty, only allowing myself to lose control with those who have earned my wrath. “It’s a nice attempt,” I say, “but I don’t want to damage my fiancé.”
I study his body, which he already put through a bit during the scuffle, and I reach out, resting my hand beside a pink mark on his hip that I assume will bruise, caressing gently. He has beautiful flesh; there’s no denying that or what it’s doing to me.
“Could you stop calling me that?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” I run my hand down his torso, taking my time, noticing his dick stirring, which makes me smile. “Ah, there it is. So I can turn you on after all.”