Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Snatching a hardback from the central table, she flickered through the pages. The cover gave nothing away. A simple white background with a single lump of black coal transforming into a sparkling diamond on the front.
I stiffened as her eyes skimmed whatever Henri had written.
He hadn’t let me read it. He had said he’d marketed it as fiction, but still…
I had no idea if he’d written about what’d happened on Victor’s godforsaken island. Had he listed what we’d endured? What I’d endured? Would Lucy be able to guess which character was me?
Stepping toward her, I balled my hands.
I’d kept most of what’d happened to myself because I had no intention of letting my wife see me as the slave I’d been instead of the man I’d crawled my way back to.
It didn’t matter that some nights I woke to her kissing away my sweat as I fell back into the horrors that haunted me. It didn’t matter that there were parts of my body that she couldn’t touch.
My lower back.
My ass.
Both of those places sent me into black memories where I didn’t trust myself not to hurt her if she pushed it.
She’d accepted my boundaries.
She’d cried over the secrets I did share.
And I’d healed the longer she loved me.
Ily had been right that I would meet someone else. Someone who I’d love in a completely different way to the way I loved her. Ilyana Sharma—now Ilyana Mercer—had embodied every dream and hope I’d struggled to keep alive on that island. She’d been a fucking angel to me. The goddess I needed to worship if only she would get me free.
But…in the real world?
Back in society where I didn’t have to beg or be buggered to stay alive? I saw that love for what it truly was.
Gratefulness.
Connection.
I loved Ily like a sister. I adored her as my friend. But Lucy? I fucking loved her like she was my person.
My other half.
My missing piece.
I got it now.
I got why Henri looked at Ily with such wonder in his eyes. Why he gravitated toward her even when they sat so close on the couch.
Ily held a piece of his soul.
Henri held a piece of hers.
And somehow, I was lucky enough to share Lucy’s.
“Goodness, it’s pretty gruesome.” Lucy wrinkled her freckled nose. “I thought you said he wrote a romance.”
I burst out laughing. “What? No way. I’m pretty sure this is the handbook on how to kill a trafficker.” Grabbing my own copy, I skimmed the first part.
I stiffened.
So he had written about Joyero.
Fuck.
“We should buy a copy.” Lucy hugged the thick book to her chest. “I like the title. The Curse of Blood and Darkness. I bet it does have romance. He has to mention Ily, surely. He’s not whole without her.”
I nodded along, not really listening, my heart pounding.
Don’t. Please don’t have written about—
I froze as my fingers slipped. The pages fanned back to the first one, leaving the dedication exposed.