Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Before I know what I’m doing, he’s flipped over my back and tossed to the ground.
Spinning, eyes fucking wild, and sanity gone, I dart my hand out to fucking kill her, here and now, but London’s head snaps up and she thrusts a hand out.
My body surges into the air, legs and arms stretched straight out as I fly backward until my head and back are knocking into the wall on the opposite side of the room. No less than sixty fucking feet.
“Fuck,” Creed booms, moving for her, but she jumps to her feet, her head thrown back like she’s fucking possessed, and fuck me, maybe she is. Her bones break beneath her flesh as she wails into the air.
“Shit!” Legend rolls to his feet.
The windows vibrate, the glass shaking and falling to the floor, and when Creed touches her bare skin, her head whirls his way.
She gnashes her teeth at him, eyes blown completely fucking black.
It's enough to make Creed pause, and she laughs. It’s dark, echoed in death and destruction. She laughs manically before taking the fucking screw and stabbing it into her neck.
I lurch over in pain, anger eating away my senses.
She thrashes then, jumping down and charging at Creed.
He dips, dodging her swing of the crystal bottle, but as he comes back up, she manages to hit him across the head.
Blood pours from his ears and she chuckles again, turning to Sinner.
Sinner’s eyes glow white in an instant, his lips moving as he throws up an illusion, but she smirks, somehow seeing through it. She dives right off the edge he left her on, giggling as she falls toward the boiling lava below. When she breaches its surface, she locks her eyes on his, and drags him down with her, drowning him in his own trickery. Slowly, the illusion fades.
“Take her out,” Silver panics. “She’s … this is—”
I lurch to my feet, coming up behind her and taking her head in my hands. She growls, clawing my eyes until blood seeps into my vision.
“Knight,” Legend prompts with a shout.
My insides rage against me, but I look around at my brothers, at the shock and concern on their faces.
I turn on my own soul once again.
I snap her fucking neck, and she falls to the floor with a slump.
She dies for the third time.
Fuck.
Five
Knight
The alcohol hadn’t touched the edges of my stress, and neither had the Fae dust, but I sat still. Void of anything more than what I knew was happening. The lights flickered to the deep base of some fucking mortal song as I slowly raised the bottle of blue liquid to my mouth, allowing the sting of potency to burn my lips before swallowing. I hiss through the trail of fire it leaves in its wake, until it finally settles in my gut.
“You know that shit could kill you, Knight.”
“Not me,” I growl, keeping my eyes locked on the ceiling. Hooks bolted in, where rope connects and dangles down for the dancers.
The Mage must slide into my booth—the darkest fucking booth in the club—because her voice sounds closer. Blinking through the haze, it’s obvious how delayed my thought process is.
But I don’t care.
I need answers and I know I’m not going to get any tonight, so tonight, I’ll drink. For him.
For her. And because of how much I hate her.
Jesus. I am fucked up.
“Now, now, my lord…” her voice dips low and I finally drag my attention off the ceiling and bring it directly to her. Zhara is the kind of Mage you find yourself wondering how good she’d feel around your cock. I didn’t have to wonder hard, since I laid her flat on her back more times than I could count.
Personally? Mid.
She flicks her long black hair over her shoulder, the glossy strands hitting the strobe light every time it flashes. “Do they know anything about the King’s death yet?” Her head tilts to the side, and I watch as her fingers start tapping against the table. She’s restless.
“Whatever you want to say, spit it out.”
Pause. Then she reaches over and takes the bottle of alcohol off me, bringing it to her burgundy-colored lips for a long swig. “I don’t have anything to say.” She swipes the bottom of her lip with her thumb. “For now.”
“But,” I snap, forcing my mouth open when she hands the bottle back to me to take another drink.
“But. I feel something.”
My eyes drift over her shoulder to the front door, where they open slightly and a small figure wearing a hood walks through, heading to the other end of the bar. The girl pulls out a stool and slides over top. I wonder if she’ll remove her hood.
“Knight?”
“What?” I come back to the Mage. “Spit it out. I’m not in the mood for riddles.”
She slides closer to me, and I lean back, needing distance.