Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
With what happened the night before, though, I was figuring she wasn’t as interested as I’d previously figured.
“Anytime you get obsessive about shit,” Detroit said, going into the fridge to grab the eggs.
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.
Every time I pulled an all-nighter on some random shit that I didn’t need to hyper-fixate on, it was a tell-tale sign that I was spiraling.
Then, the less I slept, the worse I got.
It was probably why I went so fucking hard on some targets, ones I didn’t even have a personal vendetta against.
That fucker in Navesink Bank who lost his eye before his life, for example.
Didn’t know the guy.
He wasn’t even threatening me or mine directly.
But when Slash said it was okay to unleash that part of me, I did. I completely lost myself in it for a while.
Then it was time to put the chains back on.
If I had an outlet more frequently, I figured I would be able to go longer spans without slowly losing control.
But, seeing as there were no underground fighting rings in Shady Valley, I didn’t see how I could manage that.
“Word of advice…” Detroit said as he started cracking eggs into a bowl. “Hit the gym.”
Detroit was a big fan of the gym. Which was clear if you got a look at the guy. He was a solid wall of a man.
The rest of us were hit or miss about going, but Detroit was dedicated.
“You can work shit out there,” he said, half talking to himself, about himself. “Shit is all between you and the machines. Worth a try,” he added, shrugging it off.
It wasn’t a bad idea.
I’d never been a big fan of the gym.
Growing up, nature had sort of been the gym for me. Lots of walking, hiking, swimming, all that shit. But none of it was really all that possible in Shady Valley.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’ll go see if I’m still signed up after I catch some sleep,” I said, closing up the files, leaving them for Slash to write off on when he rolled out of bed, so we could take the next steps.
Then, hopefully within a few weeks or months, we might have another new prospect around to start doing all our dirty work.
I made my way back toward the freight elevator.
“Why don’t you be a good girl, and get on your knees for me?” Sway’s voice called from inside, making a simultaneous sigh and grumble move through me as I raked a hand down my face and turned back toward the staircase instead.
I wish it were that easy.
Just find some random chick, take her to bed, and fuck the frustration out of me.
Sure, at first, my reason for not doing it was worrying about my lack of control.
The problem now wasn’t that, though.
The problem was her.
Morgaine.
Even if I circled back to town and tried to scoop up a woman who was leaving the bar or the pool hall, I knew my mind wouldn’t be on her.
All I’d be thinking about was herb-smelling red hair wrapped around my hand, about her soft breasts pressed against my chest, about her tight, wet pussy squeezing my fingers as she rode my palm, about the sweet sounds she made as I made her come.
“Fuck,” I grumbled, feeling my cock start to stiffen as I closed my bedroom door and leaned back against it.
I should have just driven back.
Sure, she’d given me the cold shoulder in the end.
But I bet if I showed up at her door there would be that spark, that flicker of a flame that would quickly be fanned into a raging fire that threatened to burn us into ashes in the aftermath.
We would both be helpless but to give into that. Into each other.
And then what, though?
I didn’t do relationships.
And if she got pissed, what? I had to be careful about brushing past anyone on the street and watch all my drinks?
A woman scorned and all that shit.
I dropped into bed, raking hands down my face.
As I fell asleep, my mind was still plagued with thoughts of her.
Then my dreams were equally as tormented.
The only saving grace seemed to be that there was almost no chance of running into her again.
CHAPTER TEN
Morgaine
“You can’t be serious,” I said, sitting in the backseat with my bags and boxes trapping me in on all sides.
“You got to go,” my so-called driver informed me with a casual shrug.
Like I hadn’t just hauled somewhere around a hundred pounds of crap all the way from my house and into town to meet this asshole, so he could drive me to the pottery studio.
From there, I could find a different driver back home.
But this guy was literally the only ride-share guy in Shady Valley at the moment.
Inwardly, I mourned for the loss of Claudia—who went by the name of Clyde—a mass lesbian who had always been reliable and made me feel safe when she picked me up or dropped me off somewhere. She was nice enough that she would even wait for me to finish at the studio, so she could drive me to the craft store, and then take me home. Because, “I don’t want to leave you stranded here with some unknown guy. The stories you hear about that…” she said, trailing off with a head shake.