Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
God, I was a fucking monster. Even I could see the death in my eyes and the gore littered across my body in the form of tattoos, violent insignias, and scars from a life of violence.
I looked over at my duffel, which sat on the floor in the corner of the room. I continued to drink deeply as my heart started racing for an entirely different reason, for a reason that had everything to do with a few items that were inside.
After finishing off the water and tossing the jug aside, I found my lack of self-control frustrating as I moved toward the bag. I crouched on my haunches and unzipped it before rummaging inside.
I pulled out the bottle of perfume I’d taken the night before, rolling the small glass vial in my hand before reaching in the bag again and curling my fingers around the scrap of silk.
My cock instantly came alive, stiffening, hardening against my track shorts. I slowly pulled out the panties, letting them hang from the fingers of one hand and gripping the perfume in the other.
I squeezed my fingers around both of them and brought the panties to my nose, growling low as pure, animalistic lust slammed into me. My cock throbbed and my balls drew up.
I was such a sick motherfucker as I opened up the perfume and brought it to my nose, inhaling deeply and groaning once more.
God, I could picture that she was right here with me. My Anastasia was so small, half my size. So breakable.
Jerking off sounded pretty fucking amazing right about now, but instead of being a dirty pervert, I put the perfume and panties back in my duffel.
After wiping the majority of the blood and sweat off my body, I went back upstairs. Once in the kitchen, I grabbed another bottle of water and downed it as I leaned against the counter and stared at my sparse home.
I bought the property five years back. It was two acres of land that was isolated enough from the city that it gave the illusion I wasn’t actually who I was, that I didn’t live where I did, and that I didn’t do what I did.
But that was all it was… an illusion. I knew who and what I was. I embraced it. In fact, I fucking loved that human emotions didn’t affect me the way they did others.
It made completing tasks and looking at things from a strategic point of view much easier when you didn’t have fucking sympathy or empathy clouding your judgment.
But then there was Anastasia, my one fucking weakness, and although I knew that, I couldn’t purge myself of my addiction to her.
I went over to the dining room table and unrolled the newspaper I’d picked up that morning, going to the section specifically covering Desolation.
It was always filled with crime, violence, and murder. I was about to turn and get cleaned up before I headed to Yama for more training when my body went ramrod straight at what I currently looked at.
My free hand curled around the paper, the sound of crinkling echoing in my ears. My other hand was in a tight fist at my side, my blunt nails digging into the fleshy part of my palm so hard I knew I was breaking the skin.
Instant jealousy reared its head, a possessiveness that I’d only ever felt with Anastasia taking a stranglehold on me.
There, staring right back at me, was an engagement announcement. On the right-hand side was an image of Anastasia, and on the other was her prospective fiancé.
I knew the piece of shit who the paper claimed she was engaged to. It was one of Vladimir’s generals, a disgusting fucker who was misogynistic, abusive, and got off on torturing anyone or anything.
I saw red as I looked at his picture. I slowly glanced up and across the room, my heart beating quick and hard, everything in my blood rushing through my veins as pure rage filled me.
Before I knew what I was doing, I gripped the edge of the table and used my strength to flip it over. Then I picked up a chair and tossed it across the room, shards of wood breaking, splintering before they crashed to the floor.
I raised my arm and slammed my fist into the plaster, my knuckle splitting open even more. I destroyed the fucking kitchen and living room, the kind of anger I felt not something I’d ever experienced before, not even when I was in the cage killing.
When it was all said and done, I stood in the center of my kitchen breathing harshly, my head lowered as I looked at where the paper lay on the ground, that engagement announcement spread open and staring back at me like fucking gasoline on a fire, igniting my rage all over again.