AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Or you’ll what?" he challenged softly, dangerously.
"Just shut up and start talking before I shove this fork through your eye socket." My eyes were already doing their fair share of throwing daggers.
"Fine." Oswin sighed,"Your mother isn't the saint you think she was."
"Saint? Hardly." I scoffed and crossed my arms defensively. "But she's not here to defend herself, is she? Convenient for spinning your little tales."
"They're not tales, Averill." He turned to face me and the kitchen light caught the sharp angles of his face. "Annette Winslow framed me. She and her damned henchmen have been on my tail through decades, centuries even. It's like a sick game of cat and mouse across time."
"Time traveling henchmen?" I echoed and raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a shitty B-movie plot."
"Believe what you want," Oswin replied with an edge, "but those same henchmen would be after you if they knew about your... talents."
"Which brings us to why you 'kidnapped' me." The word tasted like vinegar on my tongue. "If you need my help so badly, why the hell didn't you just ask?"
"Ask?" He gave a dry laugh. "You would've slammed the door in my face. Besides, we're not exactly on friendly terms, are we?"
"Understatement of the fucking century." I glared.
"Your abilities, they're raw, untrained. But mine... I've honed them over lifetimes." He rolled up his sleeve and revealed ink-black tattoos that twisted and writhed like living things.
"Show-off," I muttered, but I couldn't tear my eyes away.
"Each of these marks," he traced a finger over a dagger-shaped tattoo, "represents a death, a lesson learned. And now, I can summon them at will."
"Handy party trick," I said, but my mind raced. His control over time, over his deaths—it was something I'd never seen before.
"Stick with me, Averill," Oswin’s voice was low and persuasive, like a devil tempting me with forbidden fruit. "And I'll show you how to master your gift." Oswin lounged against the kitchen island like he owned the place - which, infuriatingly, he did.
"Isn't it a tad cliché?" I asked, my tone laced with venom as I eyed his nonchalant posture. "Kidnapping the damsel, penthouse prison... What's next, tying me to railroad tracks?"
"But you're no damsel, Averill. Far from it," he reached for the coffee pot. The tattoos on his arms shifted with his movements, mesmerizing and maddening all at once. "I prefer your brutal honesty. It suits you."
I snatched the mug he slid across the counter.
"Your mother played us both," His voice took on a hard edge. "She's more twisted than a pretzel in a tornado."
"You've got a way with words." I rolled my eyes.
"Among other things," His scent, a mix of leather and rain, was a shock to my senses. I should have recoiled, but instead, I found myself leaning into it.
"Look," I sighed and set the already half empty mug down with more force than necessary. "If we're going to do this—whatever this is—I need transparency. No more games."
"Games are overrated anyway," Oswin conceded and straightened up. "Besides, I think we'd both rather to play for keeps."
"Kylo and Ansel need to know what's going on. They deserve that much." I pushed away from the counter, the half-eaten breakfast a testament to my stubbornness. Because holy shit, it was delicious.
Oswin leaned back against the kitchen island with his arms crossed over his chest as he studied me with those infuriatingly intense eyes. "And you think they can waltz in here and fix everything?"
"Better than you've managed so far," I shot back.
The nerve of this guy. He kidnaps me, turns my life upside down, and now he's challenging my choice of fuckbuddies?
"Fine," Oswin relented with a sigh and slid his phone across the surface towards me. "But don't say I didn't warn you when things get even more tangled."
I snatched up the phone and my thumb hovered over the screen. A wicked pulse of heat threaded through me at his proximity.
"Thanks," I muttered and punched in the numbers. I tried to ignore the way my skin buzzed where his sleeve brushed mine.
