AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Demyen scoops me up like I weigh nothing. His face is etched with deep lines of anger and hatred for me.
I think.
I mean, what else could it be? He’s pissed and he hates me. There’s no way that’s worry or concern weighing down his brows. Impossible.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demands, giving me a little shake.
“Getting… my baby… outta here…” Even in my weakened state, I manage to glare at him. He can torture me all he wants—I won’t let him lay a finger on my Willow.
The asshole has the balls to laugh at me. “Is that so?” He grins like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all day. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”
I want to give him my master plan just out of spite, but my head hurts too much to remember the details. Or if I even had a plan. “Fuck… you.”
“Let’s put a pin in that for now. You’re sick.”
“You’resick.”
He smirks and starts carrying me to God-knows-where. I try to wrestle away from him, but for some reason, I’m too weak to do more than wiggle my feet.
Shit.This is going to be harder than I thought.
“Where’s Willow?” Aha, there it is. My Mom Voice comes through just fine. It hurts my throat, but I don’t care.
“She’s fine.”
“Where is she?”
Demyen rolls his eyes as we turn a corner. I’m vaguely aware we should have been back to the bedroom by now, but he’s turned us in a whole other direction.
I’d be scared, but right now, I’m too worried about my daughter.
He shifts me in his arms, and the movement tucks my head on his shoulder and my face against his neck.
He pretends like this is completely normal.
I pretend like I’m not breathing in his sandalwood scent and drifting off to heaven.
“I want my baby.”
“And I want you to not get your baby sick. Think you can manage that?”
Fuck him and his… his… fucking logic.
My nose is suddenly accosted by an array of scents overpowering the warm sandalwood of his skin. I roll my head on his shoulder enough to catch a glimpse of glistening silver metals, sharp objects, strange tools…
Oh, God. This is it. He really is going to kill me. This is his torture room?—
He shifts me in his arms again, then grunts as he pulls open what must be an incredibly heavy door.
And then I’m freakingfreezing.
Until I’m not, because… well… it feels kind of amazing.
Demyen mutters something about a delayed meat shipment and dumb luck. I don’t know. It’s hard to hear him over whatever the hell keeps rumbling in a wall over our heads.
He kicks aside what sound like boxes on the floor, then carefully lowers me down. I don’t know why he’s being so gentle with me—unless, of course, he doesn’t want to kill mehere.
I don’t even know where “here” is.
