Ninety Days Left: The Dying Wife's Revenge

otel. She wore the black silk slip dress, the fabric clinging to her chilled ski

ight to the crystal decanter on the wet bar and poured a generous

ild hallucinogen Lily had secured for her anxiety months ago. She tossed the pills into her mouth an

the room began to blur and sway. Her knees buckled. She stumbled forward, her hands

med and slid open. Lucian stepped out

ides. Zane held a tablet, his voice low and urgent. "The bl

awline. His dark eyes were fixed on

was adjusting his bowtie, preparing to knock on t

ee strides, grabbed Jax by the lapels of his jacket, an

ve his fist directly into the man's stomach. The sickening thud echoed in th

the floor. He reached into Jax's jacket pocket, ext

d rage. His wife was inside that room, waiting for an

way cameras, pressing his face into the contoured mold. Within five seconds, the thin, high-polymer silicone mask adhered seamlessly to his jawline and cheekbones, alterin

ronic lock. The light flashed green. He

he noise of the hallway. The scent of expensive roses

a. The only light came from the city gl

The thin strap of her black dress had slipped down he

ched up and violently yanked his t

mbed onto the bed. He hovered over her, his la

rom the drugs. The room was spinning, and the ma

pped her arms around his neck, pulling him down.

ered his head and captured her lips. It was not a gentle kiss. It was a punishment. His t

id not push him away. Instead, her fingers dug i

miliar, aggressive scent of juniper and dark leather filled her senses, completely masking Lucian's usual crisp cedar cologne. The foreign ar

side masked the heavy breathing i

r wrists in one hand. He pinned her arms above her head, pressing them firmly

ive. He wanted to brand her, to erase th

sliding down her temple into her hair. The physical overload drowned out

Lucian sat on the edge of the bed in the dark. He stared down at her bruised lips and t