Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
God only knew what he might do with them in his possession.
He’d never really used weapons on me. Maybe, occasionally, whacking me with his beer bottle or hitting me with his belt. But he didn’t seem to go out of his way to find something to strike me with. He preferred his bare hands.
And he’d definitely never used anything sharp on me.
That didn’t mean, however, that I didn’t think he was capable if he was pissed enough.
And he sure seemed pissed now.
“You can stab me,” he said, tone taunting. “But you’re not getting past me.”
Maybe not. But if this failed, I’d try something else. And something after that.
“Why are you here, Joss?” I asked, hoping to distract him with conversation. “I’m never going back with you.”
“You will, if you know what’s good for you.”
Maybe it was the wrong move to drive this particular knife in, but I couldn’t seem to stop my mouth from forming the words.
“I know what’s good for me. His name is Atlas. And he’s the kindest, most generous man I’ve ever met.”
“You fucking slut,” Joss roared, and I knew I’d managed two things at once.
To completely enrage him.
But also to distract him with his own anger.
“You’re mine,” he growled, rushing forward toward me, red tinting his vision, making him blind to the scissors as I reached outward, stabbing them into his arm.
I knew I should have aimed for his neck, but the way my stomach knotted at the idea made it impossible.
Still, they sliced into his flesh with less effort than I could have anticipated.
His howl of pain filled the room as he grabbed for the scissors, ripping it out without thinking, sending blood flying across the room, spattering across the walls.
I rushed forward, charging toward the doorway.
I felt my heart surge as I made my way through it, knowing I was just a few yards away from freedom.
Then I felt my bad wrist being grabbed and yanked savagely back.
There was no keeping my cry in my mouth then, thinking my wrist went from possible strain to probable break.
Tears of pain and desperation flooded my eyes, making me have to frantically blink them back as I was whipped around.
I braced myself for it, knowing it was coming. But no matter how much you have been hit, and how you knew it was coming, there was no preparing for the pain as it exploded across my cheek.
The second one came faster than seemed possible, Joss’s pain making him angrier, this punch breaking open my lower lip, flooding my mouth with the metallic taste of blood.
This time, though, the force of his blow had me flung away from him, his hand losing its hold of my wrist, leaving me falling backward, unable to react in time to brace my fall, landing hard on my ass.
The pain ratcheted up my spine, setting my teeth on edge as I tried to scramble back, put some distance between us.
Joss’s eyes were victorious as he stalked toward me, his jeer a promise of the wicked things he had in mind to do with me.
And with no rooms to either side, nowhere to escape to, I saw no way to break away.
I promised myself I would do whatever I could when the time came. Scratch. Hit. Kick. Bite. Anything. I wouldn’t submit. I wouldn’t just accept what he had in mind for me.
I would fight, damnit.
“Now, I’m gonna really make you—“ he started, bending forward down toward me.
When, suddenly, there was a flash of cream over top of my head, making me jerk backward until I was almost flat on the ground, unsure what the heck was going on.
Until I heard a bellow from Joss.
And a sound I’d never heard before.
A ferocious snarling.
My gaze found the cream-colored form again, recognizing it then as Samson.
Who’d leapt over me, and flung himself at Joss, his teeth viciously sunk into Joss’s arm, no matter how much he flailed and tried to push him off.
His little body whacked into the wall, making him release Joss’s arm.
But he was unfazed by the pain.
He arched low, his hackles high, and lunged again, his teeth snapping.
Joss scampered backward as Samson charged forward, snapping, snarling, doing everything in his power to protect me.
Joss’s eyes were wide with panic as he kept backing up.
Samson kept snapping, biting his leg, then his hand as he tried to swing it at the dog.
It wasn’t lost on me that this sweet, angel dog had been a gift from Joss for beating the shit out of me. And that same dog was now protecting me from ever getting hit again.
“Fuck. Back! Fuck,” Joss cried as Samson bit again.
He backed him right up into the door I’d been trying to escape from before.
Joss’s hands went back behind him, desperately trying to unlock it as Samson kept stalking closer.