Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I land with a gasp as the chisel clatters from my fingers.
His other hand brushes my cheek.
“You’re not hallucinating,” he says gently. “And please don’t try to stab me anymore.”
I blink up at him. My brain starts to catch up with reality. “You’re really here?”
“I’m really here.” He releases me and helps me to sit up. I rub my shoulder and gape, trying to come to grips with what I’m seeing.
Jackal is in my house. He snuck past the guards, the snipers, and the electronic surveillance system, and now he’s here, in my basement, in my workshop. I’m a dusty, ugly mess, sweaty from working for hours, and he’s looking right at me.
I probably smell bad.
This can’t really be happening.
But if he were a hallucination, there’s no way my own mind would let me miss killing him twice.
“How?” is all I can think to ask.
“Set off a distraction. I rigged the alarm in one of the houses furthest from here to go off, and I sent a drone to start shooting at it for good measure. That pulled the guards away.”
I rub my face and realize my hands are trembling. “I could’ve killed you.”
“I think if you actually wanted me dead, you wouldn’t have missed.” The humor in his tone is unmissable, and suddenly I wish I could see the expression on his face. Instead, it’s the usual impassive jackal face staring at me with only a pair of light gray-blue eyes visible through the slits.
“You realize what’ll happen if they catch you here?”
“Then we better make sure they don’t.”
I groan and push myself to my feet. I pace away, caught between raw excitement and fear.
Up until this point, the game was fun. I liked the mystery and the danger, but most of all I liked that it was taking place outside of my usual world. I could go to Jackal, push my boundaries, and still have my home to return to in the end. This place is my sanctuary.
Except now, for the first time ever, a man is standing in my basement. At least, a man who I’m not related to.
“This is beautiful, you know.” Jackal stands over my sculpture and runs a hand down the raw edge.
“It’s not finished.” I resist the urge to tell him to stop. “I don’t usually show people unfinished pieces.”
“I’ll close my eyes if you want.”
“I mean—” I realize he’s kidding and give him a hard look. “That’s not funny.”
“Relax. I’ve seen it already, remember?” He gestures toward the camera and I realize with a flush that he’s been watching me this whole time. I wanted him to watch. Except there’s a difference between him on the other end of a camera lens and him standing in my basement.
“I’m just having trouble coming to terms with this.” I keep backing up until I bump into my workbench.
He looks at me, head tilted to the side, studying me. I feel so insanely seen, and this time, I don’t like it. When we’re playing, I crave a sense of vulnerability. It heightens the experience and intensifies the fear.
This is different. It’s like he’s standing inside of my head and rooting around my memories, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about it. When I was teasing him earlier, I really did like the idea of him showing up. But now that he’s here?
“You’re uncomfortable.” He steps toward me, expressionless mask staring. “You thought it was an empty offer.”
“I thought it was a safe offer. I never imagined you could pull it off.”
“It turns out I’m willing to take considerable risks if it means being close to you.”
I let that sink in. And it honestly scares me, how much I like it.
He comes closer. I stare at his body, at the lean lines of his muscular frame, and I feel that shiver rush through me again. Lust, desire, need, it bubbles into my core, and I’m fidgeting with expectation and nerves. The shock of him showing up in my house slowly begins to fade, replaced by the raw animal want that’s always floating in my veins whenever he’s around.
But there’s something else in my head. “You know what I was thinking about?” I brush past him before he can get too close. I move over to the stairs and start climbing them. The basement is my haven, but I can handle him up in the kitchen.
He follows without a word. Maybe he understands, maybe he doesn’t. I go to the refrigerator and pour two glasses of white wine. He watches me, saying nothing. I wash the dust off my hands and arm and gulp my glass down as I dry myself with a dish rag. He leaves his glass untouched.
“What were you thinking about, little demon?” he asks.
I meet his eyes. “When you kissed me.”