Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Stopping, he shifts to look at my face. “Fear and instinct are one and the same. Heart racing, breath caught in your chest. One keeps you alive, and the other makes you feel alive.”
“I guess I never thought of it that way.”
“How do you feel now that it’s over?”
Terrified. Exhilarated. Alive in a way I haven’t felt since before Martin Everett showed up bleeding at my door.
“Like I’m going to throw up,” I lie.
“Liar,” he says and gives me a half smirk.
Before I can respond, he slides off and guides me back down onto the ground. My legs are shaky as I stand, the muscles protesting to the unfamiliar position. His hands hover near my hips, like he’s going to catch me if I fall.
It’s that kindness, that good in him, that makes me wish he were always like this. Maybe wanting him wouldn’t feel like a terrible sin.
“This weekend, we’ll do it again,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “And again. Until it’s as easy as breathing. We won’t have a chance tomorrow since the horses will be at the rodeo.”
The mention of the rodeo kills whatever fragile peace we’d found. I’m reminded of reality and what’s to come. How Allie is searching for me, and how her mother, Emma, is asking questions. Dangerous questions that could get her hurt.
“I need to call Allie,” I say quietly. “It will help to ease her mind, and maybe get her mother off your family’s back.”
Calder’s expression changes in an instant, returning to that hard, cold expression he gives everyone. “We talked about this already.”
“No, we didn’t. You told me what I was going to do. At no point did we discuss what I wanted. There’s a difference.” I step back, putting distance between us. “She’s my best friend, and she deserves to know that I’m okay.”
“And she’ll find out tomorrow when everyone else does.”
“Tomorrow is not today. I want to tell her myself. Not have her find out publicly.”
“You can want it for the rest of your life, but my answer will still be the same. You’re mine. My wife, my responsibility. I choose what happens, or doesn’t happen, and if you disobey me, there will be consequences,” he hisses angrily and dismisses me. Leading Storm back to the hitching post, he effectively ends the conversation.
You’re mine. The words echo through my mind. That’s what he wanted all along. Yes, he married me as a form of protection, but he also did it because he wants me.
“Saint.” He calls my name, knowing I’m not following.
“Why did you marry me?”
He stops mid-step but doesn’t turn around. “Do we really have to rehash this every single time you don’t get your way? You know why.”
“It’s not about getting my way. It’s about freedom, about me having a choice. You said when I married you that I would get a choice. That I would have a say. But I don’t. Or at least I haven’t yet.” I steady myself. “Yes, you promised me protection, but what you’re doing right now isn’t about protecting me. It’s selfish.” The silence stretches on between us, and when he doesn’t attempt to respond, I finish. “Now tell me. What’s the real reason you married me? Because it wasn’t only to protect me. I want to hear you say it.”
Turning on his heels, he walks away, and this time, I follow.
I want him to admit it. To tell me the truth, even if it will damn us both. If he can’t give me anything else, maybe he can give me that? I wait for him to say something, to tell me what we’re doing next, but he doesn’t. He continues walking, right into the cabin.
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he just paces around the cabin with that predatory grace that should terrify me even though it doesn’t. Not anymore. Maybe I’m getting used to being prey. Or perhaps I’m starting to understand that predator and protector aren’t always different things. Sometimes they’re the same.
After a few minutes, Calder stops and turns to face me. I catch sight of his dark expression and try not to show fear. It’s different now. The gentle demeanor from earlier is gone, and replaced with something I can’t name.
Something that makes me equally afraid and excited.
“You want to know why I married you?” He repeats my question from earlier.
“Yes. I want to know why you married me, and I want the truth.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Not your truth, or the truth you continue to tell me, but the real truth.”
“And you think you can handle that?” he asks, stepping closer.
Suddenly, my mouth is dry. “Yes. I also think I deserve it.”
“Do you?” He takes another step. “Deserve it?”
“If you’re trying to intimidate me, it’s not working.” I try to keep my voice even and strong, but that’s proving more difficult the closer he gets to me.