Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
There are many reasons we do terrible things.
“Stop talking, Tristan.”
Then we must do other terrible things to make up for the terrible things we’ve already done … and before we know it, we are living on a mountain of treachery we cannot unmake …
Raya clutches the door handle, anguished. She draws quiet, shaking her head, blinking away one nightmare after the next.
Tristan stays still. Please, Raya … He grips the end of her bed, fingers curling. If he lets go, he might drop to his knees to beg. You’re the only friend I have left. Let me tell you everything, so that at least one person in this world is left who doesn’t despise me … You have always understood my intentions before.
“You will always have Kyle.” Her voice is distant, detached. “As long as you continue to keep your secret from him, he will always love you … I saw it in his eyes at the trial last week.”
That surprises him. You were there?
“Didn’t I tell you already? I see so much you don’t think I see. So much.” She lowers her gaze to the floor, grows quiet. “I find myself remembering … of this one time … Markadian … he asked me a question, years ago, while you were gone living your life with Kyle …” Her face twists. “He asked me: if I happened to run into you … if I found out where you were hiding … would I turn you in? He knew we were close. He was testing my loyalty.”
What did you answer?
She gives it a thought, peers back at him. “Doesn’t matter anymore. You’re no angel, Tristan. You’re a demon. Perhaps it is why you are the only one Brock responds to. Does he love you? Or fear you? Is there any difference between them? Maybe Kyle fears you, too.” After one last withering look at the floor, unable to meet his eyes, she flees the room. Tristan stands in the silence, her last words stinging, not a thought in his mind.
19.
What the Fuck?
—∙—
Elias is on the bed, tied down spread-eagle, wearing nothing but a tight black thong. He’s never felt so horny in his life. Never felt so helpless. Completely at the whim of his sexy captor.
Kyle appears over him, straddling his waist. “You look so dang hot tonight,” he growls, “and your ass sure ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Elias bites his lip, strains against his binds.
When did Kyle’s voice turn even more Texan?
“You want outta that tight thong?” Kyle asks. “Nah, you look too sexy in it. This ain’t about your enjoyment. It’s about mine. You’re stayin’ in that sexy constricting thing, strapped to this here bed ‘til I’m fuckin’ satisfied.”
The more words that spill out of Kyle, the more Texan he gets. Has he always been this way when they have sex? “When will you be satisfied?” Elias dares to ask, out of breath.
Kyle seems amused by the question. He comes closer. Closer. Even closer. Then he grins, and with the spreading of his lips, fangs the length of fingers emerge.
He hisses: “Never.”
Elias’s eyes grow double.
Then Kyle dives into Elias’s helpless neck, fangs sinking in.
Two loud booms shake the walls. The demons are trying to break in again. Rattling at the window. More booming. Cracks ripple across the ceiling. The lights flicker and tremble. Elias tries to scream, nothing comes out. He pulls against his binds. No give. How did he let himself get into this predicament again? Why isn’t Kyle listening to him? Why isn’t he stopping?
The booming grows louder, crunching the walls.
Kyle lifts his face from Elias’s neck, fangs still bared. His eyes, bloodshot. Ferocious. His face, unrecognizable in its wild state.
There is nothing behind his eyes. Nothing human.
Not anymore.
The booms crash in Elias’s ears, frantic, urgent, angry. He screams in silence again.
Then he gently opens his eyes with a little gasp—and he’s no longer tied down, Kyle is no longer atop him, the room is silent and calm, morning sunlight glowing in the curtains.
And he’s cuddling a pillow.
It takes him a full ten seconds of wading through confusion to trust he isn’t dreaming anymore. He sits up, picks out a crusty tear from the corner of his eye. Squints at the window, the angle of light through the curtains. Is it already noon?
Boom, boom, boom.
Terror lances Elias’s heart for half a second at the sound—the same banging from his bad dream—only now he recognizes it as someone knocking at the front door with increasing urgency.
“Kyle!” comes a muffled woman’s voice at the door. “I need your help! Please!”
Elias blinks, confused, then glances to his side. Kyle’s not there. He’s only just now noticing this?
Bang, bang, bang. “Kyle!”
Elias slips out of bed in just his boxers, pads down the hall to the front door. Through the peephole, only Cade’s face is visible. She’s sweaty, wide-eyed, and wringing her hands.