Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
I choked on a breath as I entered her.
I couldn’t think or move as I became utterly bewitched by her heat, her wetness, her welcome.
“Yes.” Clawing at my shoulders, she arched her hips. “More. Give me more.”
Starbursts exploded in my eyes as I mounted her against that rock and joined our two forms together.
I slammed home.
She cried out.
I moved hard and deep, fucking her, making love to her, sending water waking with choppy waves.
“Harder,” she panted. “I need you to hurt me.”
“Ily. Fuck.” Looking down her body, I focused on where I disappeared inside her below the water’s surface. The rhythm of us writhing together. The sheer eroticism of giving each other such mind-breaking pleasure. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I can’t.”
She matched me thrust for thrust. Her skin glowed as bright as the sun.
I could barely see her as I rocked.
But I could feel her.
Feel her clenching around me, teasing me, imploring me to give in to sin.
“I need it,” she begged. “I need the pain, Master H.”
The crystal pool suddenly became black tar.
The jungle died.
The waterfall stopped falling.
“I-I can’t.” I clung to her, desperate to worship her and atone for everything I’d done wrong. “I love you, Ily. But I can’t—”
“Then I’m not going to wake up.”
She vanished from my arms.
I woke up screaming.
Chapter Twenty- Four
………………………….
Henri
THE DREAMS CONTINUED FOR TWO weeks.
Each night, I fell asleep holding her hand. Each dream, I found her. Entered her. Begged her to wake. Only for her to call me Master H and vanish.
I didn’t know if it was my own subconscious tormenting me or if we truly did connect on some dream plane. Either way, she didn’t wake up.
I never left that room.
I barely ate and hardly showered.
I didn’t shave or go for a walk.
If it wasn’t for Rachel putting food into my hands and reminding me to eat, I would’ve completely forgotten how.
Monday became Tuesday, Wednesday bled into Thursday, Friday turned to the weekend.
And still, Ily didn’t wake.
The doctor kept her stable. The machines kept her alive.
Ben and Stewart called at the end of the first week. The strain between us as they asked how Ily was grew so bad I wanted to hang up. I owed them every ounce of gratitude. Without them, Ily would be dead, and I would be Victor’s plaything. But…I didn’t have the strength to be grateful when Ily still hung in limbo. They filled in the awkward silence with updates on how Penelope and Abigail had flown home to America with them. How their weddings, minus any prenup, were planned for next month. Ily and I were invited. The conversation ended without an RSVP.
Caishen and the other jewels recovering in Q’s château came to check on my twin flame, some left to return to their families. But Rachel chose to stay until Ily woke up.
But she never moved.
Day by day, she remained the same, all while I fought two violent forces.
The urge to die mutated into a visceral desire to slaughter every man responsible. It wasn’t enough that Victor was dead. Had Q gone after the other Masters? What about the other monsters in the world who’d done this? What about all the girls like Ily who couldn’t wake and all the guys like Peter who’d died protecting them?
The longer I sat there, utterly useless and churning with despair, the deeper I fell into revenge.
By week three, I could barely look at anyone.
I blamed them but blamed myself more.
I hated them, but hated myself most of all.
Perhaps I was the reason Ily wouldn’t wake.
She didn’t respond to my voice. She begged me to hurt her in my dreams. Maybe she was afraid of me, hiding from me, and that fucking tore out my heart and made me rage all over again.
The churning black decay inside me grew worse.
I found myself glowering at the slight tan lines on her wrists where the cuffs used to be. I imagined all the ways I should’ve murdered Victor. I filleted him alive in my daydreams. I unravelled his intestines. I hacked up his bones and left him to rot in the caves.
Not seeing his corpse gave me no closure.
He haunted my every thought.
I caught glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye.
I saw him in the shadows.
I heard him around the click of Ily’s oxygen machine and the steady woosh of her breath.
Nothing brought her back to me.
Not my pleas; not my attempts at meditation.
I willed her to speak right into my heart.
I longed to hear her tell me how I could bring her back. How I could heal her, help her…but nothing.
Just silence.
Heart-wrenching silence that slowly broke me.
* * * * *
“Eat.” Q marched into the room and practically shoved a tray into my hands.
I shifted where I sat beside Ily, eyeing up the colourful salad, honeyed ham, and garlic butter potatoes.