Page 38 of Demon Rider

Tomorrow is a new day, and my plan is to get my woman back where she belongs.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Kristina

Blinking against the sunlight that is pouring into my bedroom, I groan rolling away from the evil planet in the sky, I bury my face in my pillow.

My stomach grumbles, telling me that I need to eat, but I have no appetite. When I got home from work, my stomach was so knotted after what happened with Tyson, that I stripped, showered and climbed into bed and let sleep take me.

I needed to shut my brain off.

Sighing, I slip from bed and move into the bathroom so I can have a quick shower.

I have no idea what I am going to do about Tyson. Maybe he knows a witch who can break the bond. Fuck, do witches exist? Reapers do, so I can only image that other supernatural beings are also out in the world.

Once my shower is done, I dry off, slipping into comfortable shirts and sports bras. My hair is up in a messy bun, because I do not have the energy to deal with that today.

I walk into my kitchen, with Tyson still on my mind and if I am going to think about that man, I need coffee. Women need to be heavily caffeinated to deal with heartbreak.

While my coffee machine gurgles the liquid gold into my favorite skull mug, I rest my palms on the countertop, I sigh, dropping my chin to my chest.

A knock comes from the side of my apartment, but not the front door, I pause. This is the trouble about being on the first floor, you get people walking past and kids being dicks running between the buildings.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up, as I move closer to the window.

Before I can open my blinds, the window smashes. I cry, as glass scatters everywhere, cutting my legs. Stepping back, I scream again as a figure climbs through the frame stepping on the broken glass.

My flight or fight takes over and I run, glass cutting into my bare foot before the man grabs me, tossing me onto the sofa, like I weight nothing.

“Stay, cunt.” He snarls.

The gun aimed at me makes my heart freeze in my chest.

“You will do nicely.” He speaks.

I cannot see his face; he is wearing some kind of mask.

“For what?” I whisper.

Fuck, I cannot go through this again. I look at the front door, thinking I can make it, but my feet sting from the cuts, the bastard chuckles.

“Go on. Try. I can bet that you do not get far, but damn, I will love for you to try. It is my excuse for hurting you.”

He walks over to the front door and pulls it open, letting two other men inside all dressed in lack also, but one has his face uncovered.

“Kristina Joyce. We have been waiting for you to come home.” He sits on the coffee table, resting his elbows on his knees while he looks at me.

“Why?”

“Tyson Langford. He is your mate, correct?”

I scoff. “This is because of Tyson. Fucking great. Typical. The bastard saves me, decides that I am his mate, makes me fall in love with him and then he cheats on me. Now I am being fucking kidnaped because of the fucker.” I blurt out, sounding deranged.

“He cheated on you?” I nod.

“Yep. Fucked a club girl, or three.” I bring my hands up, dropping them onto my thighs with a slap.

My new kidnapper frowns, looking confused.