The Devil's Lover: Be Mine Or Be Lost Forever

When consciousness returned, Juliana's eyes landed on the sweaty, bloated face of Rocco leering over her.

Without thinking, she lashed out—a sharp slap caught his cheek, and her foot drove him off the mattress.

Panic shot through her as she scrambled upright and bolted for the door.

Just yesterday, she'd ended up in a stranger's bed. Now, here she was, trapped and forced to face Rocco. Despair and anger tangled in her chest.

Rocco was already back on his feet, his lips curling in an ugly grin. "You've got some fire. I like that."

Before she could get far, he snatched her wrist and tossed her back onto the bed. "Did I say you could leave? You're not going anywhere."

The soft mattress caught her, keeping her from getting hurt.

As he closed in, her gaze darted to a lamp on the nightstand—old-fashioned, with a jagged tip.

Quick as lightning, Juliana snatched the lamp, brought it crashing down on Rocco's head, and then drove the pointed edge into his chest.

Rocco howled, pure rage twisting his face. He had expected obedience, not this kind of resistance. "You bitch!"

Despite his injury, he lunged for her, but Juliana delivered a swift kick to his chest that left him gasping for air.

"You're not escaping that easily!"

Ignoring his threats, Juliana sprinted for the door. Her heart pounded as she hit the living room of the hotel suite—only to spot a figure stationed by the front entrance, blocking her escape.

It made sense now—Rocco's smugness wasn't just boldness. If she went for the main exit, his man would have her pinned and hauled straight back.

A glance at the neighboring balcony sparked a desperate idea. It hung just three feet away—close enough to reach if she moved fast and prayed for luck.

However, she was on the eighteenth floor. One misstep, and there would be nothing but empty air to catch her.

No other options remained.

After what she'd done to Rocco, she knew he'd never let her walk away alive.

Determined, Juliana ripped the heavy curtains from the rod and tore them into wide, sturdy strips, knotting them into a makeshift rope before tying one end to the table leg. Every second counted as she scrambled toward the window.

If she could just make it to the other side, maybe she would finally break free.

The dizzying drop below made her pulse race, fear clawing at her with every second.

There were no safer routes left to consider.

Escape meant risking everything now.

Step by step, Juliana edged up to the open window, steadying her breath. She stretched out, fingers barely brushing the metal railing across the gap when the door behind her burst open.

Rocco stumbled out of the bedroom and shouted, "You've got some nerve, bitch! Think you can just hurt me and walk away?"

Panic gripped Juliana, twisting tighter with every word.

Knife in hand, Rocco advanced, blade gleaming as he hacked at her makeshift rope.

She saw her chance slipping away and, heart pounding, hurled herself toward the neighboring balcony without another thought.

She clung desperately to the railing, arms trembling as her grip started to slip. The longer she hung there, the closer she came to falling.

Rocco peered over the edge, malice flashing in his eyes. "Running won't save you. Once I get my hands on you, you'll wish you hadn't tried."

After spitting out his threat, he disappeared back inside, footsteps fading fast.

It dawned on Juliana what he meant to do—he was headed next door to cut off her escape.

With nothing but empty space beneath and danger closing in from above, fear threatened to swallow her whole. Was this really how her story would end?

Hopelessness crept in, heavy and cold.

She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for whatever came next.

A voice drifted up from below, light and amused. "Are you in the middle of some daredevil training, or should I call for backup?"

The unexpected sound jolted Juliana, and she looked down to see a stranger watching from his balcony.

Something about the sight—a lifeline she hadn't counted on—brought tears to her eyes. "Please, I need help. Can you reach me?"

Braydon flicked away his cigarette, wearing an easy grin. "I'm not really in the habit of helping damsels for nothing. Tell me, what's in it for me?"

"Just help me, please! I'll do whatever you ask," begged Juliana, desperation coloring her voice.

Her arms ached, and her fingers threatened to give way at any second.

Braydon regarded her, a thoughtful look in his eyes. After a moment's pause, he smirked and replied, "Whatever I ask, huh? How about being my woman?"