Stealing Cinderella Read online A. Zavarelli

Categories Genre: Angst, BDSM, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
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I’ve never hurt anybody in my life, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so horrified as I was when I saw the blood dripping from his temple. But I was little more than a wild animal at that point, fighting for my life. My freedom. Whatever waited outside these grand walls for me.

Then he came in here and flipped everything on its head with his offer. It was so much money. So easily disposable to this powerful man, like it would mean nothing for him to write those checks every day. But it comes at a cost to me. To my soul. And I still can’t believe I said yes.

For the entirety of his absence, I have debated whether I’ve lost my mind, swinging wildly from one extreme to the next. I should tell him I changed my mind. But every time I consider that I imagine the sanctuary… gone. Olivia bankrupt. Animals without homes.

Is it really so awful to give myself to this man for two months? The same man I dreamed about in this way? I’ve already imagined him inside me. I’ve considered what he’d taste like, how his hands would feel on my body when he touched me.

I don’t have to like him to enjoy his touch, right? And it’s easy to reason that he couldn’t do anything worse than what I’ve already experienced at the hands of Narcissa and her daughters. He could hit me, bruise me, torment me, and it wouldn’t be anything outside the realm of what I’ve already lived. But he can never truly hurt me. Not where it counts. Not if I steel myself to withstand whatever challenge he throws at me. Except, the truth is, I don’t know what to expect from this wicked prince. Because I have never been touched by a man; the kiss he gave me this morning was my first. It was dark, and it was violent, and still, shame lingers within me as I squeeze my thighs together and feel the sticky residue of my arousal there.

How is it possible that I could be so affected by my fight with him? There must be something wrong with me. That’s the only conclusion I’m able to draw.

Logical or not, what he’s offering me is too good to be true, and I can’t turn it down. Not when it means I could save the sanctuary.

The lock on the door turns, and my head whips toward it, the breath catching in my lungs. Is it possible that anyone else has a key? Or is it him? I don’t know which possibility is worse, but when the door opens, and Prince Thorsen’s shadow falls over the floor, a strange sense of relief floods my muscles. Better the devil you know, I guess.

Across the room, his eyes capture mine as he shuts the door behind him and turns the key in the lock. His shoes clip across the floor as he comes to stand in front of me, a towering amalgamation of flesh and bone.

“Have you learned anything in my absence, little fire-breather?” He reaches out to caress my face.

I bite my lip and hope I’m not betraying myself when goose bumps break out along my skin. How long has it been since I’ve felt human touch? How long have I been starving for such a simple gesture of affection that I would lean into the very palm of the man who has taken me captive?

“I asked you a question.” His voice is a warning. “And I expect an answer.”

“My arms are numb.” I force the words from my dry lips. “And my feet hurt. I’m thirsty, tired, and hungry.”

“Good girl.” He reaches down to pinch my nipple between his fingers again, and I arch back into the frame of the cross. “I’m going to let you down in a moment. But first, tell me who Charlotte is to you. And before you consider lying to me, remember that I have your phone.”

Shit. My phone. How had I forgotten about that? Has Charlotte called me? Will she start to worry when she doesn’t hear from me? These are things I’ll need to address, but first, I have to deal with the man in front of me. The man who holds my fate in his hands.

“She’s my friend,” I tell him. “We met at school.”

“And does Charlotte know you spend time at the sanctuary?”

I don’t understand why it matters, so I nod.

“Good. Then she won’t have any problem believing you’ve gone away to earn money.”

He begins the task of removing my arms from the restraints, carefully examining my wrists and rubbing them as blood rushes back into my fingers. It feels like a thousand pins stabbing me at once, and I fight back a grimace as he soothes the pain that he inflicted. How can one man be so divided by darkness and light? How can he possibly soothe the wounds he caused? I don’t know, but I’m more nervous than ever about our arrangement when I look up into his eyes, getting lost in those desolate pools.


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