âJarrod, youâre nothing but a cruel beast!â
Jarrodâs sneer was icy.
âIsnât this what you wanted? When I was unconscious, you were busily involved with other men, werenât you? I got to satisfy your needs.
â
Nicoleâs words faltered, realizing arguing with him was futile.
Jarrod, now more demon than man, eyed Nicoleâs neck.
He leaned down, his tongue finding her pulsing artery, sucking on it ruthlessly.
Nicole gasped, her body shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks.
That was her artery, a vulnerable spot where a bit more force could be fatal.
Jarrod loomed over her, his whisper sinister.
âDonât worry, Iâll make sure youâll never want another man.
â
His hand moved beneath, feeling her warmth.
In moments like this, he was reminded she was alive.
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Nicoleâs hair was in disarray, her wet tears sticking to her lashes.
She felt like a helpless fish on a chopping block.
Just as their intimacy grew, a knock at the door broke the moment.
Jarrodâs response was cold.
âLeave!â
Outside, Alec hesitated before speaking.
âMr.
Schultz, Miss Powell is unwell, Sheâs asking for you.
â
Hearing Jamieâs name brought Nicole a sense of relief.
Jarrod was about to continue, but his phoneâs persistent vibration interrupted him.
He pounded his fist on the coffee tableâs glass, stopping abruptly.
Nicoleâs respite was brief.
Jarrod dressed, casually found a jacket for her, and took her with him.
They reached a villa Jarrod had bought for Jamie.
To their surprise, Jamie was at the entrance, visibly ill.