Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
He hastily undoes the restraints at my wrists, and the moment he can, he pulls me into his arms. “I’ve got you, doll,” he rumbles. His big hand cradles my head, holding me to his massive chest, and I let out every bit of pain, fear, and fury I’ve felt over the past few weeks. “It’s over. I’ve got you.”
And with that, I simply cry, knowing that I will never be safer than I am now, right here in the warmth of Knight Slater’s capable arms.
39
HARPER-RAYN
Call me petty, but there’s nothing I hate more than having to admit when a man is right, especially when the thing he’s right about has everything to do with the fact that I’m losing my goddamn mind.
It’s official. I’m crazy. I’m certifiably insane. I think. Well, I don’t know. It’s not as though I’ve been evaluated by Blackstone’s finest psychiatrist yet, but I’m sure that’s what they’re going to say. It’s not as though there’s a completely viable reason to hallucinate a masked stalker who’s been trying to kill me for the past month.
Ugh. I can just see it now. They’re going to use words like psychotic break and episodes. It’s going to be awful, and what’s worse is that Knight is going to insist on sitting right here by my side the whole damn time, hearing some doctor confirm that I’m a deranged nutcase. How fucking humiliating. If he didn’t think I was too much to deal with before, I can guarantee he does now.
On the bright side, with the meds they’ve put me on, I’m probably not going to have any more sadistic hallucinations, and my non-existent stalker can wallow away into the dark abyss otherwise known as my memories. I’ll file it away right between my childhood trauma and the vivid memory of seeing Laith’s body on my autopsy table.
Fuck, even knowing that wasn’t real doesn’t make the memory hurt less.
The only thing that really bothers me is the letters carved into my skin. Knowing that I have the ability to hurt myself in that way terrifies me. Am I only a threat to myself, or am I a threat to others? I can’t be waking up in the middle of the night, assuming Knight is my stalker, and stabbing him right through the chest with a serrated kitchen knife. Once I snapped out of my hallucination, I would never forgive myself.
“You’re gonna burst a blood vessel if you keep thinking that hard,” Knight murmurs from the chair beside my bed, still wearing yesterday’s clothes, despite how many times I’ve told him to go home and rest. Apparently, there’s no rest for the wicked.
I’ve been here a little over twenty-four hours, and while I’m dying to get home and back to normal life, a small part of me doesn’t want to leave. I feel unpredictable. I can’t trust myself or even know what’s real, and while the psychiatrist will no doubt put me on some sort of meds to keep me from completely losing my mind, how am I supposed to trust that? What if they don’t work for me? What if they’re not strong enough for my kind of crazy? What if I hurt someone?
“And you’re gonna find yourself with a brand-new bowtie made of your own intestines if you think for one second that you get to start being a bossy asshat again,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and being grateful that the restraints were never put back on.
“An intestine bowtie, huh?” he murmurs, lifting that dark gaze to meet mine. “I’d like to see you try.”
My jaw drops. Of course I don’t stand a chance against him. He’s a fully trained, six-foot-whatever, mountain of a man. He’s a complete beast. If it came down to survival of the fittest, Knight would kick my ass a million times over and still have energy to fuck after. I wouldn’t stand a chance, but it’d be nice if he could at least pretend. Though I don’t know why I’m surprised. Knight isn’t the type to sugarcoat things. He gives it straight, and as a general rule, I appreciate that about him, but right now, it makes me want to kick his ass harder.
“You know, just because you were right, doesn’t mean that everything can just go back to how it was before,” I tell him, hoping he doesn’t have the wrong idea about what’s going on here, because honestly, I haven’t got a clue what I need right now. “I have some shit to work through first.”
“I’m well aware, doll.”
My face scrunches, and as I look at him, he arches a brow, wondering what the fuck I’m going to hit him with next.
“Why don’t you call me Morticia anymore?”
Knight grins. “With everything you should be concentrating on right now, that’s the question that’s circling that pretty mind of yours.”