Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
I smiled softly, loving the animation on his face but cold inside because he described things I still couldn’t recall.
His body stiffened. “You don’t remember?”
I wanted to lie—to keep him happy and hope that I didn’t ruin whatever was building between us. But I couldn’t. “It’s selective. Parts are so clear while others are lost.”
“When did you first know?”
“That I knew you?”
“Yes.”
I bit my lip. “Um… I can’t remember my first flashback, but the second you took my blindfold off, I knew. I recognized your eyes.”
His face softened. “I want you so fucking much.”
The swift change of direction sent a firework of lust to my core. “Take me, then.”
Pain crossed his features, a small droplet of blood from removing the stitches bright and accusing on his skin.
He waged a battle inside before finally giving in. His hips pressed upward and I gasped. I wanted him. I couldn’t deny it.
“Do you want me to take you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you doing this because you think you can erase what happened? Give us back what we lost? Bring back the past?”
Yes. No. I wish.
“I’m doing this to fix our future. And to figure out what happened.”
His face went cold. “Some things are better left in the dark.”
My heart twisted. “Things revolving around my supposed death?”
He didn’t reply.
Rushing to change the subject, I said, “Whatever happened won’t change how I feel about you.”
Even as I said it, I didn’t know if it was true. Could I still love him, like I did all those years ago, when I didn’t know the man he’d become? Or the mysterious circumstances of my death? Was I in bed with my killer?
The concept of him being a devil in disguise terrified me.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” he muttered.
I hung my head, unable to hide the truth.
Tucking red wind-tangled hair behind my ear, he said softly, “Talking and answers can come later. Tell me one thing truthfully now.”
“Anything.”
His hips tilted dangerously. “How much do you want me?”
My eyes flared and my insides melted. I would play his game. Questions could wait. Anything that might ruin what we had could wait an eternity. “So much.”
He shuddered beneath me. Chemistry sparked between us. Passion and need. The connection beyond intense, throbbing with history so much deeper than a few misunderstandings.
Before I could answer, his skin blanched and he rolled me off him. “God, this is so fucked up.”
My body went instantly cold, missing his heat. Sitting upright, he cradled his head in his hands. “I can’t believe—after all this time.” His biceps throbbed as his fingers latched into his long hair. “It hurts to believe. It hurts my heart to think you’ve been alone—all this fucking time.” His eyes glowed with rage. “They told me! They made me—”
I couldn’t keep up with him.
My heart thundered. I scrambled to my knees. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. As long as you keep me—”
“Keep you?” His face twisted. “Fuck, I was going to sell you! How can you look at me? How can you sit there and still care about me when I’ve been nothing but a fucking asshole to you?”
“Honestly? Because something inside me knew all along. Call it kismet or some soul-deep connection. I saw past your actions and into your heart.” I took a breath, trying to steady the flutter in my chest. “This entire time I’ve had nothing to guide me. No past lessons or memories. I had to rely on instinct, and no matter how you treated me, everything inside vibrated with knowledge that you were the one I was running to. Even when I should’ve been running away.”
Arthur sat stunned. His lips twisted in pain. “Fuck. Do you have any idea what that does to me? To hear how damn selfless and strong you are? To believe in us so absolutely, even when I did everything in my power to destroy you? You make me feel like a fucking monster. I’ll never deserve you after I stooped to their level. A level I vowed never to go to.”
I couldn’t stand to see his anguish; I shuffled closer.
He continued, “I can’t understand how this happened. I believe you are her—but the burns… the tattoos. It’s playing havoc with my mind.”
He hung his head in his hands, pulling away even more. He muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t hear.
He smiled sadly. “If what you say is true, then my life just got even more fucked up and the nightmare has only just begun.”
I trembled with foreboding. “What nightmare?”
He stared into the distance, seeing things I never would. Shaking himself, he said, “Doesn’t matter.” His eyes went sharp and he tackled me to the bed. Spreading me on my back, he murmured, “Right now, I want to focus on you—us. I want to remember you.”
With nimble fingers, he followed my tattoo to my hip. His gaze locked onto the design that’d snapped him from his fugue and made him believe the truth.