Blood Ecstasy (Blood Curse Series Book 8) Read Online Free PDF Page A

through his mind. Maybe she was linking up with Mothers Against Drunk Drivers. They could all be MADD together, in every sense of the word.
    And then he practically snarled.
    Beneath the calendar, pinned to the corkboard, was a neatly written quote: “You are NOT powerless.” And just below that one was another: “It is okay to be angry. It is never okay to be cruel.” Yet another one, still: “Don’t ever stray away from yourself to get closer to someone else.”
    What the hell was her issue?
    Trevor ripped the quotes from the corkboard, crumpled them up in his hand, and tossed them in the same direction as the mug. That silly, stupid, selfish tramp. If she had just tried harder to listen, learned when to shut up and obey, made a greater effort to please him, she wouldn’t be in this predicament: feeling powerless, all alone, and like she’d strayed from herself.
    Strayed from Trevor and the life she had promised to share with him.
    He could hardly contain his fury.
    He stormed out the kitchen, stalked through the living room, and headed toward the long, narrow hall, throwing open every door that he passed in a wild frenzy, desperate to find her bedroom. At last, he came to the last door on the right, and the moment he flung it open, he recognized, smelled, and remembered…Rebecca.
    Her stamp was all over the elegant, tasteful furniture; her gentle spirit was tucked into the soft, fringed pillows, placed neatly on the bed; her eye for color, contrast, and symmetry was in the paintings, the lighting, the modern but understated décor. Yes, this had Rebecca written all over it.
    He inhaled deeply, taking in the faint hint of her scent, the vanilla-spiced perfume that still lingered gently in the air—it was probably sprayed on the pillows—and then he made his way to the bed, reclined atop the comforter, rolled around on the pillows, and buried his face in the thick, folded throw that was nestled at the foot of the mattress.
    Rebecca.
    His baby.
    He could almost taste her.
    He was so very close to finding her…at last.
    The thought was erotic, and he moved his hand to the fly of his jeans, slowly releasing the buttons.
    Ah yes, Rebecca: He would leave his beloved a gift.

four
    Rebecca sat quietly, perfectly still, in the soft leather chair, her knees tucked to her chest, her arms embracing her knees, staring warily at the giant man on the floor.
    He appeared to be sleeping, but she knew he was not.
    Every time she rose to tiptoe away, he grunted, or snarled, or told her to sit back down. She was growing feverish with anxiety, paralyzed with fear, when the door to the rustic, secluded house creaked open.
    Rebecca sat forward, her ears suddenly perking up. Instantly alert, she could have heard a pin drop from a half block away.  
    Was someone coming in?
    Hope washed over her in a silent wave, and she squinted to see into the foyer.
    Yes!
    Yes.
    There was someone entering the house: a tall, dark man with thick, wavy hair and a similar countenance to Julien’s. Sweet Mother of Mercy , he moved like a panther, with absolute silence and grace. His shoulders were pulled back in a proud, almost arrogant bearing; his jaw was set in a determined line; and he prowled through the doorway more than he walked, scanning the entire room in the breadth of a second. As he headed toward her chair, Rebecca almost screamed—
    For Julien .
    She almost wanted the gladiator to help her.  
    She pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle the impulse.
    No. No! Don’t be an idiot , she told herself. The odds of two serial killers working together in collusion were slim at best. This was Rebecca’s chance—a stranger—someone who could help her, even if he was scary as the day was long.
    She gulped and gathered her courage, and then she raised her arm and waved her hand in a furious motion.
    His eyes shot immediately to hers, and the breath rushed out of her body.
    Holy Mother of God , he was the absolute personification of male