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No gun is being held to my head, no knife to my heart.
My life is not in danger.
What am I supposed to feel?
Disgust?
Yeah, I feel that.
But fear?
No. I’m not afraid. He won’t kill me. He has to marry me first, for whatever reason his family deems important enough to force this.
I just wish I were stronger, capable of overpowering Miles and his horrid body.
His breath is minty fresh, which only angers me. He’s a rapist, damn it. His breath should smell like rotted garbage.
Falcon won’t be coming for me. He doesn’t even know where I am.
Besides, I did this for him.
I made this deal with the devil to make sure he doesn’t go down for murdering Abel, and Miles had better damned well keep that promise.
Falcon.
Think of Falcon.
It’s Falcon about to fuck me.
Not Miles McAllister.
Only Falcon.
My Falcon?—
My eyes shoot open.
Except this isn’t Falcon, and not even the best imagination in the world can convince me that the man ready to thrust into me is anyone other than who he is.
Miles McAllister.
His shoulders are narrow, and while he clearly goes to the gym often, his muscles don’t rip out of his shirt the way Falcon’s do. His hair has an oily sheen to it, like he’s skipped a few showers. But even with those physical differences, I could close my eyes and imagine Falcon.
But I could never get past his face. He’s not a bad looking guy, but even the handsomest man in the world would look ugly if he had a heart as dark as Miles’s. Especially his eyes. They’re like two bottomless whirlpools, waiting to swallow up any unsuspecting swimmers that come within their grasp. Eyes that could kill with a simple glance.
I stare straight into those mean blue eyes. “So you’re a rapist now?”
“You made a deal,” he says through clenched teeth.
“I made a deal to marry you. Not to be raped by you.”
He cocks his head. “What the fuck do you think marriage is, Savvy? We’re going to fuck.”
“Yeah. After we’re married. This wasn’t part of the deal, Miles.”
Will he buy it?
Probably not, but at least I’ve got a moment’s reprieve.
