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)
I’m not sure how long we stand there, or when I closed my eyes, but his whisper has them flying open.
“I can’t keep you.”
Moisture blooms, fogging my vision, but I swallow past it. “I know.” And I do.
I know more than he does that he can’t. For whatever reason that I’m here, I know that even if there was a smidge of him wanting me, me being me and who I am means that could never happen.
Does he know who I am? Who my father was? Is that why he said that?
He whirls me around then, gripping my upper arms as anger builds along his brow.
“Lord Deveraux...” I trail after a moment.
His lip curls and he shoves me away.
A portal appears and then I’m falling....
I scream, my head spinning with one hundred different colors that aren’t on the palette before I'm back in my room. Well, my temporary room.
Instantly, I'm hit with a strange sense of loss. My hand darts out to grip the wall as I take in a deep breath. When anxiety spins around my stomach like acid, I rush to the bathroom.
I don’t know why, but tears fall down my cheeks and I swipe angrily at them.
What the fuck do I have to cry about?
“Get a fucking grip, London!”
I turn on the shower, heading back to the room to grab a pair of pajamas, but come to a complete stop when I find Knight now standing in the center of my room, his chest heaving.
Fear licks down my spine, but it's followed by something else. Something I don’t want to admit.
“I can’t keep you,” he repeats angrily, but with each word, deep creases frame his features. “I don’t want you.”
I nod, eyes trapped in his as he grows closer until he’s right in front of me.
“I fucking hate you,” he rasps.
A sharp pain forms behind my ribs, but as I look at him, it fades.
It fades because ... he’s lying.
I can see it, smell the sour stench his words left behind, but even if I couldn’t, I would know. I can sense it plain as day. I don’t know how, but I can, and I would bet my life on it.
Knight Deveraux doesn’t hate me.
He doesn't hate you because he doesn’t know you...
“Yes, baby. I do.” Torment bleeds from his words and he steps closer. “More than you fucking know.”
My brows crash. “How did you—”
My words are cut off with the sharp bite of his kiss.
I gasp, but all that does is give him the opening he clearly craves. His tongue dives into my mouth, searching, fighting, and he growls, tearing me closer.
“Kiss me back,” he demands.
I want to, but I shouldn't.
“Kiss me back...” This time it’s a desperate plea, one stronger than my will.
I kiss him back.
And oh, my fucking fuck.
My insides pulse, my entire body coming alive as I sweep my tongue with his, our lips moving like they’ve known each other all our fucking lives. Like they were meant for this, for each other.
It's a stupid, sobering thought and I tear myself away.
My hand slaps over my mouth and he growls, prowling forward and erasing every bit of space I put between us until my back is against the wall.
“I fucked up. I want to take it all back,” he growls angrily. “I'll take your anger over this fucking lie.”
“I don’t understand.”
Knight grits his teeth, tearing away as his fingers dive into his hair and he pulls. When he finally looks back at me, there’s a raging inferno. “You are going to fucking hate me. More now than before, but I’m not sure I fucking care."
His mouth slams into mine again and I fight it, but then he dips down, gripping my thighs and my legs wrap around them as if they belong.
“You can’t be my fucking Queen, London,” he growls against my lips.
“I don’t want to be.”
That pisses him off and he tears me from the wall, only to slam me back against it.
His hands dive under the small dress I wore today, and he doesn’t hesitate. His fingers dive right inside, my moan loud and needy as his entire body shakes at the sound.
“I fucking missed you,” he murmurs into my neck, and I let him talk his madness because the feel of his fingers inside my pussy is too much for me to care that he’s picturing me as someone else.
He works me relentlessly, grinding his cock against my thigh as he does, and my head tips back.
“Fuck,” I rasp, tugging on his hair as his lips come back to mine.
“I might have to keep you too.”
Too.
Too?!
His words are like a fucking ice bath, and my muscles freeze.
Literally.
Knight jerks back, and I fall to the floor as he looks to his fingers as if I burned him.
I stare back at my skin, noting the new tinted blue.