AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’d thought I’d known what it was like to go hungry and without sleep for days on end, but I was wrong. Even in the midst of a war or the aftermath of an earthquake, I’d always been able to snatch a few hours when I needed it. You learn to tune out the chaos after working a thirty-hour shift.
My head lolled to the side. I locked my knees, closed my eyes. Hoping to catch a short nap before the pain in my wrists dragged me back to consciousness.
Where in the name of the Dark Lady was my father?
I pictured him, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with peaked black brows and that not-quite-human shine to him. Me, I could blend in with humans, but Karoly Kral didn’t even try.
He had to be in Paris by now, unless he’d sent someone else. His lieutenant Tomas, maybe. If anyone could track me down in a strange city with virtually no clues, it was my father.
And when he found me, he wouldn’t sneak into the lair. No, he’d stalk in like he owned the fucking place and demand my release.
I shifted against the concrete again, brain fuzzy, my mouth as dry as the dust of Aleppo, the gray powder from the rubble of bombed-out buildings that coated everything. Even your food tasted gritty.
Right now, I’d give my left nut for a plate of that gritty food.
I was so hungry, my stomach had stopped growling. Instead, I had a constant, gnawing ache in my middle, and all I could think about was blood.
Rich, salty, life-giving blood.
I drew a breath through my nostrils and tried to think of something else.
Reaper, for instance. Naked. And tied up, because hey, this was my fantasy and I might want to fuck her, but I also wanted to punish her.
Her arms were open, the wrists secured to the bedposts. The position arched her back, showing off small, firm breasts.
She squirmed, eager for me to touch her, but I made her wait, feasting on her body with my gaze.
Pale pink nipples, or maybe a soft, dusky rose.
A slim waist and hips just curvy enough.
And those lean, strong legs.
I could feel them wrapped around my waist, her head thrown back in submission as I thrust into her.
My eyes closed. I dozed, lost in a hot, very erotic scene. Then my head hit my chest and I jerked awake, my dick hard.
Someone was at the door. I straightened up and willed my fuzzy head to clear—and my dick to settle down.
The door opened. A man was silhouetted in the light from the hall.
I squinted, trying to make out his face. Even the dim light was too much for my eyes after so many hours in darkness.
As he moved forward, the lights in the cell came on. It was Big Guy with the Fists.
I shuddered; I couldn’t help it.
And I could tell he’d seen. His eyes flickered and a corner of his mouth edged up.
My cheeks burned. Humiliation squeezed me, fast and hard, like a giant fist compressing my ribcage.
I clenched my jaw and stood taller. I would not let these bastards break me.
I ran my gaze over him, noting every detail—the long nose, the full lips, the tiny notch in his right brow. I might not know the names of the people involved in this, but if—no, when, I escaped—I was going to make sure I could describe every damn one of them.
Big Guy allowed me to use the john, but instead of leaving after, he snapped the cuffs on my wrists and stayed behind to talk.
“You’re waiting for your father to rescue you, aren’t you?” His lips twisted in a nasty, knowing line.
