The Missus by E L James EPUB & PDF EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Authors: E L James
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary Women’s Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 5 MB
- Price: Free
My footsteps echo an urgent beat on the hard reflective floor,
and I squint beneath the unremitting light of the fluorescents.
“This way.” The A&E consultant stops, and she ushers me
into a cool, stark room that is the hospital mortuary.
On a table, beneath a sheet is the fractured, lifeless body of
my brother.
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My shock is seismic, pressing on my chest and squeezing
the last of my breath from my lungs. Nothing could have
prepared me for this.
Kit, my big brother.
My touchstone.
Kit, the twelfth Earl of Trevethick.
Dead.
“Yes. This is him.” The words are like cotton in my mouth.
“Thank you, Lord Trevethick,” the doctor murmurs.
Shit. That’s me now!
I look down at Kit.
Except it’s not him. I’m on the table—lying bruised and
broken… cold… dead.
Me? How?
From my prostrate position, I watch Kit lean over and kiss
my forehead. “Goodbye, you fucker,” he rasps, the strain of
unshed tears heavy in his throat. “You’ve got this. This is what
you were born to do.” He smiles his crooked, sincere smile
that’s reserved for those rare moments when he’s fucked up.
Kit! No! You’ve got this wrong.
Wait!
“You’ve got this, Spare,” he says. “You’re lucky number
thirteen.” His smile slips, and he disappears. And I’m looking
down at him once more, leaning over him while he sleeps.
Except his battered body belies that—he’s not asleep—he’s…
dead.
No! Kit! No! My words stay stuck in a throat that’s
crowded with too much sorrow.
No! No!
I wake, my heart pounding.
Where am I?
It takes a nanosecond to orient myself as my eyes adjust to the halflight. Alessia is curled around me, her head on my chest, her hand splayed
on my stomach. As I take a deep, cleansing breath, my panic recedes like
the gentle wash of a tideless sea.
I’m in Kukës in Northern Albania, at her parents’ place, and across the
lake, dawn is a whisper in the sky.
Alessia’s here. With me. She’s safe, and she’s fast asleep. Carefully, I
tighten my arm around her shoulders and kiss her hair, breathing in her
scent. The faint balm of lavender, roses, and my sweet, sweet girl soothes
and stirs my senses.
My body rouses; desire, hot and heavy, flowing south.
I want her. Again.
This is new—this need, but it’s become ingrained, a part of who I am,
and it’s heightened when I’m with her. She’s so enticing and lovely that I
crave her like an addict. But I resist waking her—she’s been through nine
circles of hell.
Again.
Fuck.
I bring my body under control and close my eyes as my anger and regret
resurface. I let her slip through my fingers. I let that violent arsehole, her
“betrothed,” steal her away. What she’s endured, I don’t want to know, but
her cuts and bruises tell their own awful tale.
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