Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
But as the time passes ever so slowly, I can’t keep myself from thinking about him. From wanting him.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
With the anxiousness riding through me to escape before I lose myself entirely, I can’t help but question if he’s truly asleep. If it’s that easy for a beast like him to simply give in to the night. The voice at the back of my mind begs me to be patient and not rash…or else. So I lie as still as I can, fighting the deep need to close my eyes. I try to remember the route we took to get here, to his room. But all I remember is screaming and kicking against him. When the escape plan devolves into nothing more than “run,” I stare at his gentle sleeping form. My gaze travels down his sharp jaw to the dip in his throat and I wonder why he wants me. He could do this to anyone…why me?
He said he wants to heal me. But he already has. The pain has vanished.
I don't need anyone to help me. As a breeze bangs gently against the glass, my gaze flicks up to the iron paned windows. We’re far too high up for me to escape. Thinking of leaving him, of being anywhere without him, sends a painful bolt through my chest. It’s yet again another sign that I’m not well and not myself. I’ve never felt attached to anyone. Certainly he’s using me as a play thing and manipulating me in order to make it easier for him. I could never love a man like that.
I realize I'm nodding my head at my thoughts and my eyes dart to Drago's. His chest rises and falls. I watch as my breath gently moves the hair on his chest. My fingers itch to run through the thin line of his happy trail. The covers are just barely at the dip of his hips. That sharp v makes my mouth water. I clench my thighs and shut my eyes tightly, hating the pull he has over me.
As carefully and quietly as I can, I gently lift my body off his. All the while I watch him. He's still. Asleep like the dead. With just the sight of him controlling me, the memory of his flames moves my fingertips to my neck. The feel of him is like nothing I’ve ever known. It’s a drug, a spell…it’s something deadly.
Moving as slowly as I can and wincing with every noise the mattress makes, I lift the covers and scoot off the bed. The chill in the room makes me extremely aware of my lack of dress. I can't very well sneak out of here naked. I bite my lip and look around the room for the shirt he gave me.
I get on my knees and search for it on the floor. It doesn't take long to find it and slip it on. As the soft scent of him wafts over me once more, a small smile plays at my lips, at least I'll have that to keep. There are no undergarments though. I fix the sleeves and decide this will do for now. With every small step to my escape there’s a slight groan of the ancient wooden floor. Each time I peer back, the longing for him only intensifies. As if my very soul rages war against me for leaving him. I remind myself that all spells can be broken and perhaps space will aid me in that endeavor.
His door is locked with the key still sticking in the keyhole. I unlock it slowly and wince when the click that I've never fucking heard is the loudest fucking sound ever. My shoulders hunch and my breath comes to a halt.
I expect to hear something, but after a moment I take a peek over my shoulder. Drago is still sound asleep.
I let out the breath and gently open the door. It's relatively quiet, but I do it slowly to make sure the sound is at a minimum. Once it's open, I place the key on the little wooden table by the door and sneak out. I almost look back, but I'm afraid if I do, I won't have the courage to leave. As soon as I'm past, I gently shut the door, but I don't close it all the way. I don't want the sound to wake him.
As I take a few quiet steps into the hall, with only the sound of my bare feet smacking against the cold floor to accompany me, I realize I'm not even sure if I ever thanked him for healing me and for the meal I so desperately needed. With every step I feel more ungrateful and sorrowful. I shake my head at the thought and continue walking...this is not the thinking of a woman who is going to survive this. I focus on where the hell I am so I can figure out where I’m going. The walls and floor of the long hall are made of beautiful white and black swirled marble. Torches are lit along one wall, but most have gone out, leaving dark patches in my vision. Fear trickles into my blood as I pass through a section of darkness only to find a light shining through much brighter than the torches.