Slip of Fate (Werelock Evolution Book 1) Read Free Page A

attempt to mask and swallow my growing confusion and inner confliction.
    What he’d said about Felix was true. Felix had kidnapped me. He had intentionally hurt me. But I wasn’t certain he was entirely a bad guy. For reasons beyond my comprehension, I believed Felix’s peculiar words of warning to me had been in earnest, delivered in spite of the immediate threat his actions posed to his own person.
    And now both of his arms were broken. And I was alone in a room and under close surveillance by the same man who had callously ordered those arms be broken.
    I focused on breathing in an attempt to distract myself from my growing panic.
    “Drink?” Remy reached over my head to an adjacent side table.
    As he was procuring the proffered beverage, I took the opportunity to really look him over. My bleary eyes were soon roving uninhibitedly up and down his densely muscled, tall frame before I could think better of it.
    He was positively huge! He was dressed in an expensive-looking white shirt and well-fitted slate dress slacks. I suspected they’d been tailored in order to so perfectly conform to his powerfully muscled thighs.
    By the time my eyes returned to his face, he was smirking, and I blushed yet again at being caught ogling him.
    Why was I ogling him? I never ogled men. Now was hardly the time to start— with a scary arm-breaking stranger! What was wrong with me?
    When he raised my head in one hand and brought a crystal glass of amber-colored liquid to my lips with his other, I finally snapped from my stupor.
    “Nooo … pee!” I blurted gauchely, my eyes widening with desperation and embarrassment as I realized I still needed to go. “Um … bathroom? Please?”
    Remy’s abrupt shout of laughter shook the daybed. He tossed the drink down his own throat before fishing a cell phone from his pocket and thumbing what I suspected was a text message.
    “But of course you may use the facilities, milady Milena,” he intoned with mock formality. “However, I’m afraid due to your injuries you’ll need some assistance. I’ve summoned a female companion for you. Think you can hold out a few minutes longer? I’m fairly certain this is a rather expensive couch.”
    I nodded, feeling mortified now, in addition to the myriad other emotions I was struggling to decipher.
    He arched one brow. “Even … if I tickle you?”
    I squealed “no” and childishly pled “uncle” the moment his fingers shot out in pretense of a tickle attack, grazing the small expanse of my abdomen beneath the hem of my tank top before ceasing.
    As I caught my breath and my spinning head, I looked up to find him beaming down at me.
    “I got you to smile,” he boasted. “It seems I’ve made you cry, blush, and smile, all in the span of three minutes. Maybe at least you won’t reject me for boring you.”
    He looked so ingenuously boyish, so harmlessly playful pouting down at me. It was all so confounding! So impossible to wrap my head around the fact that he was the same person who’d so coldly decreed the torture of another human being minutes ago.
    “Are you … American?” I asked, cursing the increased heat that flared in my cheeks when his eyes sparkled and he shook his head, grinning broadly—as if to suggest he were withholding a great secret.
    “Would you feel safer with me if I said I was?”
    “Raul’s not welcome in this house, and that means neither is his family!” a booming male voice thundered, followed by, “Holy fuck, what’s that smell?” as another enormously built, dark-haired, gorgeously godlike man stomped into the room and into view just above me on the opposite side of the daybed.
    “Fuuck,” he swore, his nostrils flaring, his massive chest and muscled shoulders heaving smoothly up and down as he audibly sniffed in my direction.
    “I want her,” he proclaimed, his hazel eyes devouring every inch of me in a way that was utterly primal.
    Remy released an extended sigh. “Don’t scare her, Alcaeus. She