Page 208 of Auctioned

“Mr. Hawthorne?” my doctor answers on the third ring.

Ophelia pries her hand from beneath me. She slaps the device off my hand, causing it to crash to the floor.

“Get in here,” I shout, staying on top of her. I won’t leave her for nothing. “Bring a gurney. I’ll kill you if you’re not here within the next two minutes.”

Then my crazy, unhinged woman does what only a crazy, unhinged woman would. She shoves her bloodied fingers into my mouth.

On an impulse, I suck on them. The animal in me will always devour every part of her.

“Taste,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. “Shut up and taste it.”

My nostrils flare as soon as I realize what she’s smearing on my tongue. My eyebrows fly up. I wrap my hand around her wrist, pulling it out.

In a second, her sweatshirt is no more. I tear it off her, staring at the mess beneath it.

A clear plastic bag has been ripped to shreds there by the bullet. What’s left of it is pinned to her chest by a blue elastic band I recognize from my gym at home.

Her body is unharmed. The bullet Topher fired is lying there. Between plastic, ketchup, and water.

Any other day, I wouldn’t have missed it. The light color isn’t a deep crimson red at all. I wouldn’t have recognized the sweet smell.

Today isn’t any other day.

“Bulletproof shirt?” I run my hands over the thick liquid. Over her shirt. Her navel. Stomach. Back up to her breasts. Her collarbone.

She’s alive.

“Learned from the best.” She coughs. The bullet hit her hard. Her cheeks flush, and she tugs my hand, pulling me to her. I press my lips to hers, stroke her cheeks with my knuckles. “From my owner.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” I speak against her lips. My mouth brushes hers. I suck in her air. Give her all of mine. “You could’ve died, Ophelia.”

“Mr. Hawthorne.” Doctor Gable is breathless. I don’t hear the gurney dragging. He must’ve brought someone to help him carry it behind him. “Sir, where are you?”

“Over here,” I say.

“I couldn’t lose you too.” A sob breaks from Ophelia. Then a cough. “I would’ve died without you. Do you understand?”

Her sobs and coughs tear through me. Right to the bone.

Then unhinged laughter follows as she digs her fingernails into my skin. I let her.

I let her be whatever she wants.

She’s alive.

Until the end of time, she’ll always be mine.

EPILOGUE

Ophelia

Topher’s wake was lovely. A last goodbye worthy of one of New York’s most powerful and wealthiest men’s sons.

Every person who attended it today knew why Topher died. The reason that had been released to the press, anyway.

Camden had accused James of Oliver’s disappearance and was after blood. According to what Topher said when he’d barged into our home, he believed his friend. Thought his dad would kill him next.

My poor would-be stepson. So troubled. So volatile. So very violent. He did have a disturbing past, didn’t he? With his mom’s disappearance and all.

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