Until the cigarette between his fingers burned out, Jared Quinn reached out and pushed open the room's door. The room for holding prisoners was almost bare, with just an iron bed, upon which Melody Thorne was curled up at the moment.
Seeing her small figure and her disobedient actions today, the aura around Jared Quinn surged continuously.
Since when did Jared Quinn's woman need to endure such grievances?
Striding over, Jared Quinn sat on the iron bed, and as he did so, the bed emitted a discordant sound.
Melody Thorne clutched the quilt, knowing that Jared Quinn was angry now. She absolutely couldn't open her eyes, hoping that after a night's sleep, his anger would dissipate by tomorrow.
Jared Quinn's large hand fell on her back, his dark eyes seeming to see through her pretense of sleep. His hand reached for the zipper on the back of her dress, slowly pulling it down, as his cold fingers traced down her smooth, snow-white spine.
