Twisted Devotion (Kings & Consorts #1) by Poppy St. John

Author:Poppy St. John [John, Poppy St.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0BVDGLJMX
Goodreads: 109932214
Publisher: Petal and Thorn Books
Published: 2023-03-27T23:00:00+00:00

16

EMILY

At least this place had books.

I ran my fingers over the spines lining the bookcase. The selection wasn’t optimal but I’d give any of my vital organs not to go back to the basement.

The variety of books I hadn’t read yet was dwindling, but I had an interesting crop to pick from. Old leather bound histories, yellowed page philosophies–those I mostly ignored–but then there were also romances and adventure stories.

Jane Austen and Emily Bronte. Jack London and Conan Doyle.

I plucked a hardback of Brave New World from the shelf and cracked it open to the copyright page. Its pages were yellowed and fragrant, the edition published in 1933. I slipped the book back into the lineup and kept looking. The collection altogether told me exactly nothing about the people who owned them or lived here. I had a feeling though that the building had not been constructed or lived in by anyone who knew who the Kardashians were.

The books made me think of Tessa. I had no idea what day it was anymore but I was supposed to be traveling with her.

I wondered what tall tale had been concocted to excuse my absence.

Was someone out there with my phone, tapping out replies to my friend, keeping up appearances? Or was my face on a milk carton somewhere?

There wasn’t a goddamned thing I could do about it either way.

My mind wandered to the books she gave me, how much I’d rather be reading one of those right now.

If I told Tess what was happening right now, she’d never believe me.

Whenever I saw Ruarc, I needed to stop, take stock, and blink a couple of times to make sure he was really there. Corporeal. Not a nightmarish fiction made flesh.

But ghosts didn’t have warm skin. Hallucinations couldn’t give you the best orgasm of your life.

My eyes flew to the door. The last time it opened, it was meal time and someone brought me a large plate of spaghetti and chicken parm. The next time it opened, I’d probably be asleep, the used dishes cleared away. The sun set four times through the barred windows since I’d last seen him.

Had I done something wrong? Something to upset him? If he didn’t want to touch me anymore, what would that mean for me?

I could only think of two things. Either he’d return me to my father, unlikely, or he’d kill me to send a message.

My teeth dug into my lip as I flipped the book’s pages, too distracted to read more than a couple lines at a time.

Footsteps padded against the hardwood floor somewhere not far from the door to my luxurious prison and I held my breath, thighs clenching only to deflate as they faded away.

Was that it? Was I just… horny? Was that why I didn’t fight harder to stop him?

Jesus.

If it was true, what did that make me?

Because my hands worked just fine and I’d been using those to get off since I was fifteen.

Was I so starved for human contact

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