Her Vengeful Embrace: An Island of Ys Novel
Page 20
“No, nothing like that. Nothing concrete. I just have a bad feeling.”
Cora wasn’t one to be dramatic. If she felt like something was barreling toward them, it likely was. “Keep me updated. You’re always welcome on the island, of course.”
“Thank, Amarante. I appreciate it.” Voices in the background. She cleared her throat. “I have to go. Talk to you soon.”
She hung up and slipped the phone back into her pocket. “We don’t have to worry about assassins any longer.”
“Today’s turning into quite the day.” Tristan slung an arm around her waist. “Let’s get moving before Cami decides to start adopting orphans.”
The thought sent a thrill of true fear through her. “She wouldn’t.”
“The woman has a heart of gold and baby fever that’s strong enough to scare the shit out of me. She definitely would.”
She picked up her pace, hurrying to the truck they’d parked off to the side of the road. “That’s not funny.”
“Who’s joking?”
But when she looked at him, he was fighting down a grin. “You’re such an asshole.” She put the truck into gear and pulled out, going slightly faster than strictly necessary. Tristan might have been joking, but she’d seen the look on Cami’s face when she’d gathered the smaller children up. The faster they could get those kids to safe places away from the Island of Ys, the better.
“You love it.”
“I love you.” She reached across the console and took his hand. “Let’s finish this and go home. At least until the next one.”
“Life with you is never boring. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Thank you so much for taking this journey with me to the Island of Ys! It’s been a wild ride, and it’s very bittersweet to have reached it’s conclusion!
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“I’ll make you a deal, Jasmine.”
Another trap.
That’s why my heartbeat kicks into high gear, a stampede of one in my chest. Fear. Understandable and justifiable, considering my circumstances. It’s certainly not something akin to delight at the opportunity to pick up whatever gauntlet he’s about to throw at my feet.
Jafar moves away, his features still hidden from me in the darkness. As if I don’t have them memorized, from his close-cropped black curling hair, to his medium brown skin that darkens over the summer months, to his perfectly groomed beard. And those eyes. Those dark eyes haunt me.
He stops near my bed, and I would give a fortune to know his thoughts as he looks down at the tangled sheets where I spend every night. Finally, he turns to face me. “Run, Jasmine. If you make it to the front door, I’ll release you, trust fund intact.”
Run.
I plant my feet. “And if I don’t?”
Another of those sinful chuckles. “Then you’re mine, body and soul.”
A thrill cascades through me, intense enough to steal my breath. His.
No. I give myself a shake. No, no, no.
I’ve fought a losing battle from the time I first realized my place in my father’s business, fought to be considered an actual person instead of an asset. Since I realized that my body and looks are more important than anything my brain can accomplish. If my father truly is gone, that means I have a chance to set a new course.
But only if I make the right move tonight.
I part my lips, the word that would set me free tingling against my tongue. Rajah. That’s what I should want, isn’t it? To be gone from this place and this man and all the strings attached to what he’s offering me. Just another kind of ownership.
You’re mine, body and soul.
No misunderstanding his meaning.
If he catches me …
I shouldn’t want him to catch me.
With a shaking breath, I put away my desires. They betray me the same way this man betrayed my father. Deserving or not, it is a betrayal. I pull my robe more firmly around me, a laughably worthless action considering how short and silky it is. The slick fabric reveals more than it conceals, and if I wonder if the shadows blind Jafar the same way they do to me, his nearly soundless inhale at my movement tells me—he can see me enough to want me.
But then, he’s always watched me with a hot gaze beneath those hooded eyes.
And me? I enjoyed the attention. The thrill of it, of how forbidden it was to be desired by this man.
More the fool I was. He’s just as bad as my father. Worse, in some ways, because while my father had many faults, breaking his word was never one of them. For better or worse, when he said he’d do a thing, he followed through on it.
Jafar promised my father his loyalty.
Look where that’s left us.
I take a step back, and then another. A third brings me flush with the door. “I will walk out that door with my money and my freedom.”
“Then run, Jasmine. I’m feeling generous, so I’ll even give you to the count of ten.”
Generous? Never. More like he wants to draw this out, to give me a moment where I can actually taste victory before he snatches it away. This is all a game to him. Everything seems to be a game to Jafar.
I don’t hesitate this time. I throw open the door and flee down the hall, my bare feet slapping the cold tile in time with my racing heart. The front door never felt so far away. Three staircases, half a dozen halls, more rooms than I care to count. All of it stands between me and my freedom.
If you really wanted freedom, you should have used your safe word.
I ignore the sensible voice whispering through me. Freedom without resources is no freedom at all. This is the only way.
I reach the stairs as my bedroom door opens behind me. Even though I know better, I look over my shoulder as Jafar steps into the hall and adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket. God, he’s magnificent. Evil and manipulative, and far too attractive for my peace of mind. Our gazes collide over the distance and the slow curve of his lips into a satisfied grin nearly sends me falling down the stairs.
He starts toward me.
I flee for my life.
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About the Author
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Katee Robert learned to tell her stories at her grandpa’s knee. Her 2015 title, The Marriage Contract, was a RITA finalist, and RT Book Reviews named it 'a compulsively readable book with just the right amount of suspense and tension." When not writing sexy contemporary and romantic suspense, she spends her time playing imaginary games with her children, driving her husband batty with what-if questions, and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse.
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www.kateerobert.com
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