Theirs To Protect: a Reverse Harem Romance
Page 31
But she just laid there.
Fucking lifeless.
Fuck. FUCK.
Charlie grabbed at his hair, wanting to yank it out by the roots and—
But then he heard a noise.
The smallest groan.
“Shay!” He smashed his face to the hole in the wall and thank God. She was moving. He shoved his fingers through the small slot. “Shay, Jesus, are you okay?”
What the fuck, obviously she’s not okay.
“Sorry, that’s stupid. Can you sit up?”
She rolled over and dragged her body further into the little alcove where the office was, out of the path of the main hallway.
When she finally sat up, he expected tears. He expected a bitter grimace. He even expected to see blood.
And she did have a fresh split lip, blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth.
But what he didn’t expect?
For her to be fucking smiling.
She was grinning. Huge.
“Shay?” Charlie asked uncertainly. “Are you feeling okay? He hit you pretty hard.”
When a small giggle escaped her lips, Charlie really started getting worried. But then she hopped to her feet.
And when she came near, there was a light in her eyes he’d never seen before.
“Shay, what’s going—”
“I know where Audrey is.”
Charlie coughed in shock, hand going to the plexiglass. “Where? Is she okay? Who has h—”
“Back up.” Shay gestured impatiently for him to move back.
He frowned, totally fucking bewildered.
“Back up.”
He took a couple steps away from the door.
That’s when her grin got even wider, though he wouldn’t have thought that was possible. And, with one quick glance back toward the hallway, she produced a keyring, holding it up briefly so he could see through the plexiglass.
Holy sh—
He didn’t even have time to finish the thought before he heard the click of the lock turning. Then the door pushed open.
He could only stare in shock as Shay slipped inside. Her dark head was bowed as she flipped through keys on the keyring. Then she reached for his hands.
“Shay,” he gasped. “How did you—”
She didn’t look up from unlocking the shackles around his wrists. “I stole them off Carl when he was grabbing for the tray. I’d scrounged up some butter for your bread and made sure to pass by him. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.”
“But he hit you.”
Shay just shrugged it off as if it was nothing. She got his wrists free and then dropped to his feet. The sight of her, crouched down at his feet, was just too much.
“Shay, Shay, stop.”
Charlie leaned down and put his hands on hers, taking the keys.
Those endless blue eyes of hers flashed. “I know where Audrey is. And I’ll tell you.” Then her face went flinty with determination. “As long as you help me get the hell out of here.”
He felt his eyebrows shoot to his hairline. This woman was full of surprises. But everything she was saying was music to his fucking ears.
“You’ve got a deal.”
In another half minute, he had the shackles off his feet. The chains dropped to the floor and he stood fully upright for the first time in three months.
Then he reached out a hand to Shay.
“Let’s go.”
Charlie and Shay’s book will be coming in June 2018
Continue reading to enjoy the first standalone novel in Stasia’s Stud Ranch Romance Series after the acknowledgements,
included in its entirety
HUNTER: a Snow White Romance
Other Novels by Stasia Black
BAY AREA BAD BOYS SERIES
Crush Me: a Dark Billionaire Office Romance
Please Me: a Dark Billionaire Office Romance
Burn Me: a Bad Boy Revenge Romance
STUD RANCH STANDALONE SERIES
The Virgin and the Beast: a Beauty and the Beast Tale (prequel)
Hunter: a Snow White Romance
The Virgin Next Door: a Ménage Romance
OTHER STANDALONES
Daddy’s Sweet Girl: a Dark Stepfamily Romance
BOX SETS
Bad Boys and Billionaires Box Set
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Aimee Bowyer, beta reader extraordinaire! Thanks for saving my buns on this with the proofreading and your general fabulous feedback as always. You’re encouragement meant an extra lot on this one because the story meant so much to me. Love that you connected with it as much as I did. HUGS!
Emily E— So great to have you on board as a beta. Omg, you’re save on the wedding vows, I’m still slapping myself in the forehead for that one. Like, it’s my big teaser now for the book, her saying, ‘I do.’ Fairly important, lol. Thanks so much for your enthusiasm for the book and coming on board :)
Melissa Pascoe—the more time we spend together, the more I rely on you. You are amazing, fantabulous, can’t-live-without! Thank you so much for keeping my schedule straight and helping things stay hopping. *mwah*
Bobby and the crew in the master class at Butterfly Promotions, meeting ya’ll has been a game changer. I bow down.
And thanks as always to super hubby. Love you forever.
ABOUT STASIA
Stasia Black is an author who’s drawn to romantic stories that don’t take the easy way out. She wants to see beneath people’s veneer and into their dark places, their twisted motives, and their deepest desires. She likes to toss her characters into the tempest and watch them hurt, fight, bleed, and then find out what, if anything, comes out the other side. Come along for the journey because it’s one helluva ride.
HUNTER:
A Snow White Romance
(Stud Ranch #1)
STASIA BLACK
Copyright © 2017 Stasia Black
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Sneak Peeks
Acknowledgements
About Stasia
Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?
Chapter 1
ISOBEL
VANESSA TO JASON: Did you break up with her yet?
VANESSA TO JASON: I know her dad just died but thats not yr fault. We deserve to be :)
Jason’s cum was still inside Isobel when she read the messages on his phone. He was showering after they’d had sex.
They’d been dating for three years. Long distance for the past year since Isobel had come back to the city to be close to her dad after he got the diagnosis. Pancreatic cancer. The doctor gave him six months to live. He made it eleven, only passing away early last week.
Jason came for the funeral. They hadn’t been intimate for almost two months before that, but Isobel had wanted the comfort of being in his arms tonight. After everything with her father, and God, her stepmom, it had all been just too much.
So Isobel went to the guest bedroom and slipped into Jason’s bed without turning on the lights. It seemed like the one thing that might make her feel like a whole, sane person a
gain.
Jason was hesitant to touch her at first. Which only stoked all her worst fears. She’d gotten fat. He wasn’t attracted to her anymore.
So she’d redoubled her efforts. Touching him the way she remembered he liked best. Going down on him until he was hard and thrusting in her throat. Then crawling up the bed and getting on her hands and knees so he could push into her from behind. He liked to grab her hips and pump her hard. She also suspected he liked to watch his big cock disappear between her ass cheeks.
But she wouldn’t let him turn on the light when he tried. He had no idea what bravery it took for her to let him touch her naked body at all. With no clothes to obscure her problem areas, he could feel all her flaws if he brushed down her thigh, or even worse, if he moved his hands up from her hips to her waist.
In the end, though, it barely mattered. It was over so quickly. And the part she’d been looking forward to the most—the cuddling afterwards—was nonexistent. Almost the second he grunted and spilled in her, he started muttering about needing to get cleaned up. Then he was climbing off the bed and heading for the shower.
His cum was still dripping down the inside of her leg when the ensuite bathroom door closed and his phone on the nightstand buzzed with an incoming text.
Which was when she read Vanessa’s words.
Vanessa, her best friend back at Cornell.
Vanessa.
With Jason.
Vanessa and Jason.
Isobel blinked in the dark. Her mind tried to reject the idea even as the evidence glowed on the screen right in front of her.
The screen went dark but then buzzed in her hand again, lighting up with another text alert.
VANESSA TO JASON: to get you thru the lonely nite til you come home
The phone buzzed again with a shirtless selfie of Vanessa squeezing one of her bared breasts and making a sexy face at the camera.
Son of a bitch! Isobel threw his phone against the wall, only feeling marginally better when she heard the screen crack.
And then she yanked the bedsheet around her and stormed into the bathroom. Because enough. She’d had enough. Hadn’t life thrown enough shit-bombs her way lately?
“You cheating bastard!” She jerked the shower curtain back, revealing a startled Jason, foamy shampoo thick in his hair.
“Baby,” he looked at her, his hands going up in a defensive posture. “What are you—”
Baby? Fury like she’d never felt before lit her up inside.
“Get out!” She leaned down and slammed the shower knob, shutting off the water. God, she couldn’t even stand looking at him. Had he been comparing her to Vanessa the whole time he’d been having sex with her? Even the thought of it made her want to scream. So she did. “Get out. Now!”
“Stop. Isobel, I don’t even know what you’re talking ab—”
“What, you tripped and your dick just accidently fell into Vanessa? I saw your fucking texts, asshole.”
Jason pulled back, finally dropping silent.
“Get the fuck out of my fucking house!” she screamed right in his face.
“Okay, okay,” he said. He reached for the shower knob. “Just let me finish washing my hair and I’ll be—”
“Did you not hear me? I said get the fuck out now!” She grabbed his bicep and jerked him toward the tub’s edge.
He slipped and fell, landing hard on his ass.
“Christ! What the fuck, Iz?” he cried as he scrambled to his feet, slipping one more time before he finally managed to get out of the tub, his hands moving to cover his crotch. Was he afraid she’d want to get a kick in? Not a bad idea.
But he was already backing out of the bathroom and hurrying toward his suitcase. He dressed faster than she would have thought possible. When he sat on the bed to put on his tennis shoes, she just shouted, “Out!” again. He obviously got the picture because he grabbed the shoes, his suitcase, and his phone from the floor and then he ran out of the room.
In another few seconds, she heard the front door slam. Good fucking riddance. She hoped more than just his screen was broken so he couldn’t call an Uber.
She walked back to her bedroom, almost in a daze.
But after several more seconds, everything that had just happened sank in.
Jason had cheated on her.
Jason didn’t love her anymore.
Dad was gone.
She was all alone.
Right as the gut-wrenching realization hit, she happened to look over and catch sight of herself in her full-length mirror.
She dropped the sheet she’d been carrying around, just to torture herself.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Body dysmorphic disorder. When she looked in mirrors, she never saw what was really there. Even if she weighed only ninety-five pounds, she still saw a fat pig. She had weighed ninety-five pounds—very briefly—right before she’d gone into the treatment facility at sixteen, surrounded by a ton of other skeletal girls all convinced they were fat too.
For a while when she’d been away at college, she thought she could change things—that she could change herself. Just like she’d thought she could finally fix her relationship with Dad by coming home and spending time with him before the end.
But if the last week had taught her anything, it was that things never changed. Dad died believing her stepmother’s side of the story. And she was always going to be ugly, screwed up Isobel. She avoided scales like she tried to avoid mirrors, but barely any of the pants she’d brought home from Cornell fit anymore.
Without the anger that had been animating her for the past ten minutes, she felt completely empty. She wanted to drop to the floor right there and just…stop. It was all too hard. She couldn’t do this anymore.
Instead, her feet started moving.
First to her dresser. She put on her underwear and pajamas mechanically. The bedrooms were on the third floor of the Upper East Side brownstone and she clutched the banister as she hurried downstairs. She knew where she was going even as she hated herself for it. Nothing ever changed—so why fight fate?
Like a magnet, she was drawn quickly toward the kitchen. It was a pristine room with white marble countertops and dark espresso colored cabinets. Isobel pulled out the ice cream from the double refrigerator. She never bought it but it was always here. She shook her head, knowing it was her stepmother trying to sabotage her and hating that she was giving in. But seriously, what was the fucking point, anyway? She was a sucker for ice cream. Sugary, addictive, with a high calorie count? Sign her up.
She grabbed a wooden stirring spoon and ate the chocolate chip cookie dough straight out of the container.
She finished one pint and was halfway through another before disgust with herself sent her running to the trash can underneath the sink. Opening the cabinet, she yanked out the can. She knelt on the dark hardwood floor and then her finger was down the back of her throat before she could even think all the way through what she was doing. She retched and retched into the trashcan until all the ice cream came back up. Then she sat back against the cabinet, shoving the trashcan away in disgust, wiping her mouth with her forearm.
“Goddammit!” she screamed in frustration, furious at herself. She hadn’t binged and purged for four years before coming home to be with her dad. And now this was the second time this week since the funeral.
She pulled her knees to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She was about to give into a good sob fest—not unusual for her lately, she would go on random crying jags what felt like every half hour, even before her dad died—when she saw something strange.
The cabinet door under the sink was still open from when she’d grabbed the trashcan. And tucked in the back of the cabinet behind the Ajax, Windex, and dish soap was a tall container of… was that…?
Isobel blinked back her tears and leaned in, pushing aside the other cleaners to better see the big plastic bottle.
What the—?
Why was there a container of protein
powder hidden at the back of the sink?
Isobel stared at the bottle in bewilderment. Was it Dad’s from before he got sick? But why on earth…? It wasn’t like Dad was into pumping iron. He’d go jogging occasionally, but she thought this kind of stuff was usually for guys trying to build up huge muscles.
She tugged out the bottle and unscrewed the cap. It was more than half empty.
She glanced back inside the cabinet and froze. Right beside where the protein powder had been was a bottle of the special cognac her stepmother drank—the shit cost six hundred bucks a bottle and Catrina was always paranoid and accusing Isobel of drinking it when she wasn’t looking.
The truth was Isobel had tried it once but then never again because it tasted like donkey piss.
But looking back and forth between the cognac and the protein powder, she froze, her teeth grinding.
That bitch.
“So he cheated on you.”
Speak of the devil.
Isobel’s back went stiff at her stepmother’s voice. She got to her feet, not wanting Catrina to have her at a disadvantage by towering over her.
“Why am I not surprised?” Catrina sounded almost bored as she stood in the kitchen doorway. It was ten o’clock at night but Catrina was still perfectly made up, her thin former model’s frame standing erect, elegant and dignified in a pale green silk robe. Even in her early fifties, Catrina was still an undeniably beautiful woman. A fact that she’d never let Isobel forget ever since she’d married her father. Isobel had only been ten at the time.
“You’ve become such a fat pig lately. Did you really think he’d stick around?”
Isobel’s jaw locked and she looked back down at the open container of protein powder, the realization of what Catrina had done lighting her blood on fire.
“You’ve gained, what, thirty pounds since you came home to be with your father?” Catrina asked, voice needling. “He was worried about you, you know. He talked about you so much at the end. All he wanted was his beautiful little girl back.” Catrina let out an incredulous little huff and Isobel’s hands balled into fists. She would not be goaded into reacting.