Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
The footsteps continued toward the door. She was almost ready to breathe a sigh of relief when he turned and came back into the room. The smell grew closer, and the next thing she knew, the bin was moving sideways. She was being hauled out from under the bed. She looked up and saw herself staring into the eyes of a monster.
“Hello, my darling,” he said with a huge smile.
“Ciaron,” she breathed.
“Aren’t you happy to see me?” he asked.
“Yes. Of course. I knew you’d come,” she said.
“Then why were you hiding?”
“I didn’t know who was coming in. You or him.”
“Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?” he asked.
“No. I’m fine,” she lied.
“Good. Let’s get you out of here then,” he told her.
Eimear feigned a smile and went with him out of the room and down the stairs, looking around anxiously for Fergus. There was no sign of him. Her heart sank.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Fergus
Fergus looked up from the back yard just in time to catch a glimpse of the man in the bedroom window. He had his back turned, but he’d done enough surveillance on Ciaron Doyle to know him when he saw him. He’d brought eight men with him, and now, eight men were dead. There was only one left to die. Shifting back into human form, he walked naked around the edge of the house. He doubted Ciaron would hurt her, not yet and not there. He was a man that liked to inflict pain slowly, to savor it.
Of course, he might not mean her any harm at all. He might just be content to take her back with him and keep her by his side, his trophy bride that he’d saved from the jaws of a mad man. You could never really tell what someone as unhinged as Doyle might have in mind until it was too late. He waited, watching as Ciaron walked out the front door with her, his hand gripping her tightly by the elbow as he walked her toward a dark SUV pulling into the drive. There was no way she was getting in there. No way she was going with him. He stepped out from around the house and shouted.
“Eimear, it’s time to go!”
Her head jerked toward him, and he was afraid for a moment that she was too scared, too frozen in place to respond, but just as the doors began opening on the SUV, she suddenly yanked herself away from Ciaron and bolted for the house again.
“Eimear, where are you going?” he shouted, seeming confused by her attempt to flee him.
Eimear looked back at him, catching a glimpse of Fergus to one side of the yard. He was beginning to shift, and she knew this would be the end of Ciaron Doyle. She looked him straight in the eye and smiled.
“I’m leaving you, Ciaron, and just so you know, he didn’t hurt me, but he did fuck me—over and over—and I enjoyed every single inch of him.”
Even in the darkness, lit only by the lights now kicked on within the house, she could see the rage rise up through his cheeks, tainting them a vivid red. He turned to storm toward her, but she was back inside before Fergus finished shifting. Ciaron turned his attention back toward him for the moment, no doubt figuring she wouldn’t be any hassle to reacquire after he and the remainder of his goons dealt with her kidnapper.
Instead, they found themselves facing a huge ginger bear. He went for Ciaron right away. You always cut off the head of the snake first. He wasn’t usually a ghoul, but the sounds of Ciaron screaming as he ripped his throat open and flung him at the first man that came toward him was delicious. He raged through them all, taking a bullet in the hip in the process. He didn’t feel it much in bear form, but it was going to hurt like a son of a bitch when he went back to his human state again.
One of the guys tried to make a run for the SUV, and Fergus charged him, sending him flying back against it. His body made a sick thudding noise against the side of it before dropping to the ground. He tried to scramble upward and slipped back to the ground. Ciaron moved forward, putting his paw on his chest, and stepping forward, putting every bit of his weight down on him. He could feel the bones in his chest give way as he crushed them, sending splinters of bone into his lungs, and bursting his heart.
Fergus looked about, checking the vehicle and around the house before making his way back to the front door. He shifted and pushed it open, walking from room to room before exiting the back door for one last look around the yard. He looked down at himself. The bullet had only grazed his hip, but it had left a huge gash there that was bleeding profusely. He was going to need to stop it, and he was going to need stitches, perhaps even a graft.