Aislinn scented him before she heard him.
Goddess was he really still wearing that same awful cologne? So tacky. Like seriously man get with the times. The sh*t reeked.
It also dominated her nightmares.
It had taken weeks before it had completely dispelled from her nostrils and senses the first time she had escaped from this place. When she was finally able to breath without remembering its overbearing scent she had vowed to never inhale its cheap pungent aroma ever again.
Seems like that promise was about to go right out the window. Of course she could always just hold her breath and die of suffocation.
Tempting.
She seriously considered it for a few beats. It came close.
She REALLY hated that cologne.
But as par for the course in her life, revenge was to take precedence over stupid things like vows, promises ... mates.
Ouch. That one hurt.
Ah! And there was the accompanying tell-tale sound of his size thirteen loafers slapping against the wet cement. What a joyful sound. Perhaps it should be her funeral march.
At least she hadn't lost her morbid touch after all this time. Not that that's particular difficult to do seeing as she's currently residing once again in the epitome of the sought-after medieval designer torture chamber, with accompanying ensuite dungeon.
She let out a low sigh. This is going to suck. Big time. Like majorly totally wholly suck.
Right but she just needed to keep focusing on why she was here. Just like how she had survived the first time. She just needed to keep her eye on the long game.
'It doesn't matter.' She chanted the words over and over in her head. 'Whatever happens now doesn't matter. It. Doesn't. Matter.'
"Ciao Bella." [Hello beautiful.]
She fought back the wave of nausea. The nostalgia. The shiver of disgust.
'What they cannot control they cannot break. What they cannot break they cannot control. Lose control and you will fail. Fail and you will fail them. Lose control and YOU. WILL. FAIL. THEM'
"Tis ono mancato?" [Did you miss me?]
How she detested this man.
His breath fanned over her face. Warm and moist, with a hint of booze and cigar smoke mixed with his signature cologne assaulting her senses, as he leaned down bringing his face until it was close to hers.
"Non far finta di non volere il mio tocco. Non far finta di non volermi. Non è quello che volevi sentire?" [Do not pretend you do not want my touch. Do not pretend you do not want me. Is that not what you wanted to hear?]
His voice was low and slimy. Each word rolling out of his mouth like oil. But it was the words themselves that she truly hated. The words that he would say to her over and over as she had fought and begged. Goddess. Had it really only been two weeks ago she had said those same words to him? It felt like a lifetime ago. Like a dream.
"Quanto odio vederti andare via. Eri sempre la mia preferita." [How I hate to see you go. You were always my favourite.]
She didn't let herself react when she felt his hand brush over her cheek and down her neck almost tenderly. She wanted to gag. Honestly she'd rather he punched her then caress her so ... intimately. Loathing engulfed her as she fought to remain absolutely still, to endure his touch.
YOU ARE READING
Revenge of the Luna Queen
Werewolf[IMPORTANT SEQUEL ALERT: Book #2 of 'The Lost One' Series] Love. That's what they had. He loved her and she loved him. Kaiden had never been as proud and complete as he did with his mate safe in his arms, his mark on her skin. She was his and he w...
