Scarlet Stone(10)

By: Jewel E Ann

With the concentration of walking a tightrope, I ease past him. In the spirit of not killing my housemate within seconds of meeting him, I decide to go to my room and give him some space to cool his tits.

Until … he has the audacity to let his lip curl into a smirk at the last minute. I redirect my path, stopping at the fridge.

“Don’t. Open. It.”

“Or what?” I grin and tug on the door.

“Last warning.”

Theo must not have gotten the memo on America being the land of the free. Snatching the green apple on the middle shelf, I breathe on it, wipe it against my shirt, then sink my teeth into it.

Before I have a chance to savor the taste, the apple is ripped from my grasp and thrown on the worktop.


He slams my back into the fridge door, cuffing my wrists in his massive hand while shoving them above my head.

Gasping, I nearly choke on my bite of apple. On my attempt to yell, he plunges his finger in my mouth and digs out the bite of apple.

He did not just do that. He. Did. NOT. JUST. DO. THAT!

“Rape!” I scream.

Theo quirks an eyebrow.

Twelve hundred beats a minute. I can’t catch my breath. My eyes dart around the room for something, anything to use as a weapon. He’s gone completely mad!

“Put me down!” My plea comes out on a whoosh of air when my stomach connects with his iron shoulder as he lifts me off the ground.

He takes the stairs two at a time. I yank and pull at his hair, still fisting it when he throws me on the bed.


“I’m not raping you,” he grits through his teeth as he pries my hands from his hair.

Like the humming bird, I don’t even think before lurching toward him as he strides to the door.

“You cuntpuddle!” I yell as he slams it shut.

The knob won’t turn. He’s holding it shut. What are we? Seven?

“Let me out!” I yank at the handle.

“Take a nap.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t send me to my room and tell me to ‘take a nap.’ Who the bloody hell do you think you are?”

“I told you. I am the law.” Every word he speaks is slow and controlled—barely. There’s a natural edge to his voice that could slice a person in half.

I don’t want to be sliced in half.

I don’t want to argue with a madman. Okay, I shouldn’t want to argue with a madman.

I also shouldn’t be grinning like a fool, but I am. Theodore Reed is one fucked-up bugger, and I couldn’t be happier.

Sleep. He’s right. I’m so knackered. I need a nana nap and a few more chapters of Tolle.


The nerves in my ears rip apart in painful torture with the screeching sound coming from downstairs. Lifting my heavy head from its facedown position on the bed, I blink open my eyes. The analog clock on the bedside table reads: 8:35. Morning or night? I don’t know. My brain is not awake. I’m not in London.

I had this crazy nightmare about Thor plunging his troll-sized fingers into my mouth because I took a bite of an apple. Maybe it was biblical, a Garden of Eden thing. I was Eve and Thor was Adam.

The lining of my stomach feasts on itself. I don’t think I’ve had any food for almost twenty-four hours. It’s time to end my fast. Easing open the door, I peek through the crack.

“Shit!” I grimace, covering my ears as the piercing sound of Satan’s symphony fills the air again.

Snatching my handbag off the floor, I make my way downstairs. My ears get a reprieve as it’s now quiet again. On his hands and knees, Theo arranges tile on the floor like he’s piecing together a puzzle. He looks up, sweat dripping down his face, disappearing into his bronzy beard. It’s a shame he feels the need to taint his beautiful face with such a narrow-eyed glare. Behind him, out on the porch, there’s a saw. That explains the horrific noise.

“I’m going to a supermarket. I’ll replace your apple even though your manners are anything but those of a southern gentleman. What are the chances that you wash your hands after using the bathroom?”

He resumes his puzzle like I’m not here.

“Is there a supermarket or even a green-grocer in walking distance?”

“It closes in fifteen minutes.”