Fate of a Faux (Lords of Rathe #2) Read Online Meagan Brandy, Amo Jones

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Forbidden, Paranormal Tags Authors: , Series: Amo Jones
Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
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Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
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“So, basically, you drew the short stick and had to come?”

“With classes at Rathe U cancelled until this is over, I had nothing better to do anyway. Besides, I get to hang out with you,” he teases, swimming up beside me, just as a distant alarm signals.

“Shit.” His face falls. He grabs me by the hand, yanking me out of the solvent gold that feels like silk.

“What’s wrong?”

He tugs so hard his hand will likely leave a bruise, but it’s the panic in his eyes that has me tripping after him, allowing him to pull me rather than tear away.

“Yemon.”

Yemon?

My brows crash but I pump my feet, keeping up with him as we head for a giant wall behind us. Ivy weaving is braided up its massive length in never-ending parallel columns, thorns growing from nothing, getting larger with each step we take in its direction.

“We have to get back inside the walls. They know we’re missing, and the only reason they would have looked is if there’s—”

A loud screeching has us both freeze. Zeke whips around. “Danger,” he finishes his thought, but I hardly hear him.

That scream. It wasn’t the kind I’ve ever heard. It was sharp; the sound scraping over my skin as if I was physically touched by it, and it was shrill. A scream you’d expect to hear from a warrior running into a losing battle. A cry of imminent death but it being abruptly cut off.

I spin to face the same direction as Zeke, just as a head rolls across the grass like a fucking basketball, coming to a stop near our feet.

I gag, lurching forward slightly.

"Stop moving!” Zeke urges quietly, and instantly my muscles lock.

Right then, I spot a shadowed figure hovering above the golden pond. It takes a few seconds for me to realize it’s a body hanging from its clutches. One missing its head.

I squint for a better look, but then the wind whirls, and my wet hair lashes like a whip, slashing into my face until I feel a trickle of warmth rolling down my skin.

“What is that?”

“It’s a shadow beast.” He speaks low. “They don’t have eyes, so she can’t physically see us, but she can sense us and our movement.”

“She?”

“Shadow beasts are … how do I explain. Mother nature? They watch over and protect the barriers to our world.”

“So why are we afraid of something that’s supposed to protect us?” Maybe the body in her hand is one of a traitor?

“We’re at a crossroads. We have no King. Our future King has rejected his mate.” Zeke cuts a quick glance my way. “Sorry.” He looks forward again, missing the frown that crosses my expression. “I’ll explain more about Yemon later just, don’t move.”

My arm still raised partially in the air, my hair in my hand, I bring my eyes forward, just as the shadow beast meets the grass line.

My blood pumps harder in my veins and my feet twitch to run, to fucking flee, but where the hell would I go? Not through the literal killer wall behind us.

“Portal?” I whisper.

“Can't portal in or out of the Faelific Fortress. It’s protected. Only Royal blood can get through that way.”

Fuck.

Where’s a Deveraux when you need one?

The thought has something hitting against my ribs, a strange mist of … I don’t know what it is whirling in my mind.

The shadow beast moves slowly like a balloon in the sky, it’s movement at the mercy of the wind, and while it whipped and raged before, it’s dulled now to a soft breeze, our stillness playing tricks on the beasts' senses.

As it grows closer though, I finally get a full look.

She’s tall; no less than ten feet. While essentially being made up of a thick, black fog of sorts, there are defining characteristics. The fog frames what would be a face, laying over her head like a hood, intended to protect her identity. It falls like a large cloak, or maybe its intention is to look like a dress, the length swaying behind its form.

She is majestic, and when the thick black clouded figure lifts its arms, something strange flickers in my chest. I take a step forward before I know what I’m doing, soft whispers filling my ears, but I can’t hear them, so I take another.

“London!” Zeke hisses. “Stop!”

My feet carry me forward, until I’ve broken out into a light jog.

I need to get to her.

But then footsteps sound from behind me, and a hole opens in the beast's face, the deafening scream that escapes her ringing out like a fucking grenade in my eardrums.

Pain erupts in my temple, my hands flying to cover my ears as I bend at the knees, crying out in pain. Movement catches my attention, and my head snaps up.

My eyes fly wide in panic as what looks like white blood rolls from where the eyes should be. The body is tossed at my feet.


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