Honey Cut (LYONESSE #2) by Sierra Simone EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Sierra Simone
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2.1 MB
- Price: Free
ISOLDE
PRESENT DAY
Manhattan crawls, seethes, in a summer haze below me, glass and
metal and hot concrete choking the leafy tangle of Central Park.
It’s home, but it doesn’t feel like home. I feel like I’m still on the waves,
untethered. Still on a yacht, being brought from my family’s ancestral seat
to the home I know best, for a wedding I never asked for.
Maybe it doesn’t feel like home because of where I am—a slick highrise stocked with blindfolds and rope and custom furniture. Or maybe it’s
because of whom I’m in this high-rise with—Tristan Thomas, the man who
stole my heart in the shattered moonlight of the Atlantic. Along with
another man, the man who broke that same heart three years ago with the
blood from my hymen still drying under his fingernails.
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Mark Trevena. My fiancé.
I look down at the railing of Mark’s loft. My hands are pale and slender,
the left hand glinting with rubies and gold. They are hands that have stolen,
maimed, and killed. I try to keep them steady.
I have so much to do as Mark Trevena’s bride.
“You crawled to me here. Do you remember?”
Too late, I become aware of the presence in the loft, and I turn to see
Mark coming to the glass half wall separating the space from the rest of the
penthouse. Rather than stand beside me, however, he braces his right hand
next to mine on the railing and stands just behind. Not close enough to
touch, but close enough that I’m thinking of touching now. Close enough
that I can feel the measures of his exhales.
Our hands are less than an inch apart; his is an expression of power next
to my own. Its size, its placement. Two of the fingers on it have been inside
my body.
“I remember,” I say. A neutral tone is second nature to me, a by-product
of growing up the princess of an Anglo-American banking empire. And
even if it weren’t second nature, I would be a fool not to be careful right
now. Not to see that the board is set and Mark is ready to move the first
piece. He’s been ready since we met, I think, ready for four years.
Four years.
Can it have really been that long? Four years of his ring on my finger,
three years since he made me bleed while I panted and begged for it.
Three years since the morning when I made someone else bleed their
life out onto the sun-baked Roman cobblestones…a loss of innocence that
cut much, much deeper than the loss of my virginity.
It feels like it’s been a lifetime. It feels like it’s been no time at all.
At any rate, I have to be mindful what I show him now that we’re
together. I have to make him believe that I am reluctantly besotted. I have to
show him the submissive wife he craves.
Stolen victories don’t come from playing fair, after all.
With that in mind, I turn to face him fully, having to press my back
against the railing in order to look up at his face. He keeps his hand planted
where it is, not stepping back to give me room
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