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14

Ihear the door slam loudly. Considering how quiet the house is and has been for the past three days I can only assume who ever just entered is pissed or is, in fact, a bear.

I climb from the bed, I don’t know how I know but I know that whoever it is, they are coming for me. My nerves light up, adrenaline pumps through my system, coiling my muscles. I might die here but there is no damn way in hell I’m going out without a fight. I’ll be sure to do damage where I can.

I’m ready when the lock on my bedroom door disengages and the mammoth of the man that is Alexander, storms into the room.

He is covered in blood, there’s a cut on his brow that is leaking red liquid down the side of his face, bruising has already started to shadow his jawline and partially down the side of his neck. Damn, he looks like he got hit by a truck.

I spot the gun he has levelled at me, not at my head though, my chest but he isn’t pulling the trigger despite the murderous glint in his steely eyes.

I rush him, if he were going to shoot me, he would have done it by now, either that or I have death wish. The gun doesn’t go off as my shoulder slams into his abdomen. I won’t lie, it feels like I just charged into a brick wall though he does stagger a bit from the impact. A grunt leaves his mouth but he’s quick to wrap his arms around my middle, pushing back with his own weight which is considerably more than mine. The man is a tank, a broad-shouldered wall of pure muscle and violence though size isn’t everything in a fight. I’m lithe, elegant even, I move quickly and don’t think for a minute that my size gives me a weak punch.

I slide out of his grip and wrap my fingers around his wrist, twisting it until his elbow threatens to snap.

The gun clatters to the floor and I kick it away, watching where is slides so I can grab it for later use.

I’m using his weakness right now, the fact that he’s clearly taken a beating before coming here is my advantage even if a tiny piece of me is worried about his injuries. I mean how fucked up is that? The guy kidnaps me, fucks me and then leaves for three days. Whenever I asked where he was, I got grunts and growls in response, that seems to be the native language amongst the fuckers Alexander employs.

He snatches out of my grip and shoves me hard enough that I stumble back onto the bed. He advances like a lion stalking a gazelle, eyes watching every movement, every flinch and twitch. I roll from the bed until it’s the only thing that separates us.

His shoulders heave and his eyes narrow.

“Should have pulled the trigger,” I taunt.

His brow twitches, “You’re right, I should have.”

“Why’d you hesitate, huh?”

“Perhaps I wanted to give you a head start. Maybe I wanted to watch you run. Wanted to see how far you could get before I eventually caught you.”

I scoff, “Of course you did.”

I don’t miss the heated gaze he throws my way, I don’t miss the way his pupils dilate and his jaw clenches as his eyes roam down my body. I’m back in my sleep shorts now that they’ve been washed and a small sports bra after getting too warm in here the night before. I wouldn’t sleep naked, but this was enough to keep me cool.

He wants me. Even when he wants to kill me, he lusts after me, I just don’t know which one he wants more.

It’s terrifying and exhilarating all the same.

I should probably get my head checked.

My eyes track to the door, he’s left it wide open, probably not expecting such a push back. He grins, with his bloodied face and the violence shining in his eyes, he looks manic and sexy as fuck.

Just get out, I tell myself,we can admire him from afar. Preferably far, far away.

I have speed on my side, but did I really think I could make it? Only one way to find out. I sprint for the exit, weaving past the furniture and it’s right there, freedom so close I can taste it, but a thick arm bands around my waist and I’m tugged back hard enough the wind is knocked out my lungs as I collide with his chest. His breath comes out heavy as he pants next to my ear, causing the curls around my face to tickle against my skin. The warm scent of whiskey clings to him but there’s other smells on him too, gasoline, smoke though I can’t focus on that too much as he presses me up against the wall, his chest to my back. I feel his hardness resting on my spine and memories of the last time we were here flash in my mind.

Warmth floods me.

“What is it about you, hm?” He growls, pushing his cock harder into me, “that gets me harder than a fucking rock every time.”

I don’t mean to, but I moan, a slight whimper that puffs from my lips.

“You’re fucking batshit, that’s why,” I breathe.

“I fear you like this kind of crazy little bird.”

Yes, “No.”


Tags: Ria Wilde Twisted City Duet Dark