Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“Who is it?” Pace asks.
“It’s Mateo.” A beat passes. “I found Maura. I have her with me.”
“She can come in,” I call. “You stay the fuck out.”
“That’s not how this is going to work, Rhodes,” Mateo responds right away, as if he was expecting me to bar his entry. “You’re not locking me out of finding a solution for her.”
“This is my motherfucking house. I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” I say, voice deceptively smooth. “For instance, I’d love to shoot you both right now. Dying would put you out of your misery. You’re both obsessed with a nineteen-year-old girl. Honestly.”
“Don’t act like you don’t get it,” Pace says for my ears alone. “You do. It’s why you’ve been trying so hard to stay away from her—”
I point the gun at him. “Shut the fuck up.”
His jaw turns brittle, but he doesn’t lower his accusatory gaze.
Have I been more obvious about my complicated feelings for Magnolia than I realized?
I level my Glock at the door. “Bring her in. Let’s get to the bottom of this ridiculous farce.”
The doorknob turns, cracking open the door, before a boot inserts itself, kicking it wide. A terrified looking woman in her mid-to-late forties stands in front of a much taller man. She looks like she’s about to hyperventilate. “I didn’t want to curse her, sir, I promise.” She holds her up her shaking hands. “She was losing too much blood. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I don’t believe in curses,” I spit. “But just for my amusement, I’m going to let you explain.”
The woman, Maura, swallows hard. “The spell did not come from me. I’m only a messenger for the goddess.”
“Oh. Right,” I say dryly.
“It went like this…”
She closes her eyes and quickly rattles off a rhyme. I turn it over in my head and I can tell Pace and Mateo are doing the same.
One man will never suffice…
But three may cause the reverse.
The notion of a curse is absurd. However, that part does stand out.
“What does this mean. She can’t—”
Mateo interrupts me, understanding and a healthy dose of conflict dawning on his face. “She needs three men to reverse it.”
Pace rakes a hand down his face. “Christ.”
I’m still not buying this supernatural nonsense. “Here’s what it sounds like to me. The two of you just don’t have the skill to make her come. And you’re blaming it on a curse.”
Pace’s and Mateo’s eyes crackle with ire.
“You think you can do any better, old man?” Mateo asks.
“I know I can. I…could. If I was depraved enough to touch her. Which I’m not.”
Briefly, Mateo’s attention drops to the overstuffed fly of my pants. “You sure about that? Because I don’t want you to put your filthy, murdering hands on her, either, but seeing her in pain like this is making me desperate.”
“Me too.” Pace shudders. “I can’t take any more of her unhappiness. It’s killing me.”
My pulse is starting to beat fast. Too fast. In my wrists, the base of my neck, my cock. No. No, I might already be going to hell, but I’m not bringing that innocent girl with me. It’s simply not happening. This whole explanation is farcical, I am hosting a coming out party this evening to gently let her out into a kinder, gentler world, not bedding her in an attempt to break some imaginary curse. She’s my ward and I’m more than twice her age.
Still, I loathe the idea of her suffering. It behooves a levelheaded man, like myself, to check out the situation and make sure Magnolia gets the help she needs.
“Bring me to her.”
Chapter Six
Magnolia
I dangle upside down from the silky loop that is attached to the ceiling.
Karson gave me this yoga studio when I turned sixteen and it became my haven. A place to come, stretch my body, feel free. As I reach right for another ribbon and spin slowly in circles, mid-air, I focus on my breathing. I put myself on the wings of a giant Pegasus flying over the sunset…but for once, I fail to be transported.
The damp throb between my legs is getting worse.
It’s unbearable. Constant pressure and spreading wetness. Beating, beating.
I’m covered in a dewy sheen of sweat, despite the air conditioning, hot shivers passing through me in terrible waves. Thanks to the heated quality of my blood, my skin, I’ve stripped down to nothing but white cotton panties, the crotch of which is drenched to dripping. And it doesn’t help matters when I straddle one of the silk loops, all of my weight concentrated on where it cradles me, pulling upward against my sex, my toes barely brushing the ground.
I’m moaning and rolling my hips when Karson walks into the studio.
Shame strikes me.
Humiliation.
But not enough to keep rocking my lower body, riding the silk hungrily, bottom lip captured between my teeth. There’s no relief to be had, but I can’t stop. I can’t.