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 look around the island.
It looks like something out of that show Ben used to watch, Naked and Afraid. Everything is makeshift, but with added touches of magic. And helicopter parts.
The trees are tall, blocking out most of the sun and the water sits still along the shore. For the Gifted, the darkness and energy the galaxy provides is not just a preference but a necessity. It’s an energy source for their power, one of the reasons those at Rathe must feed on others so much to keep their bodies fueled, meaning the people here feed off one another to keep themselves going.
As I think it, I pause, wrapping my arms around myself as pressure falls on my chest.
That's not my knowledge. That was straight out of Knight's mind and memory.
He's literally woven within me now.
It’s as soothing as it is revolting.
“So, the Ministry runs this place?” I hear myself ask, trying to focus on anything but the incessant tug-of-war inside me.
“We run it, but they created it. It’s a never-ending prison. Eternal hell and not the fun one.” She turns, walking backward with a smirk. “Probably not the welcome speech you were hoping for but be happy it was me on cave watch today and not Frenchie. He’s a prick.” She sticks her hand out, her fingernails painted a shiny black. “I’m Haide.”
I hesitate, wondering if I should spill all my shit up since lying fucked me and got me here.
Knight fucked me and got me here...
Literally.
I swallow. “I was raised as London, but my Gifted born name is Villaina... Lacroix.”
Her brows jump. “Well … some of them will definitely kill you, but again...you can’t really die here so.” She shrugs, throwing her arm over me. “Let’s go meet the others, little Slasher, but you might want to hang on to this.”
Haide passes me a small knife I didn’t see her pull out and faces forward. “New blood!”
Fuck.
Twenty-Four
Knight
Muffled sounds ring out around me, but my eyes won’t open.
Darkness, a new, heavier kind than I’m used to, seeps into my veins, weighing me down until I'm nothing but a black void. Hollow and starved for something that no longer exists.
I’m fucking dying. Or a part of me is, and it’s stealing my strength one memory at a time. This is like nothing I’ve researched about when a bond is broken or rejected. When that happens, the rejected goes insane, lost to blood lust or completely fucking feral. Like London was on her way to becoming before I erased myself from her mind.
It's never been proven, but the whispered rumors in Rathe say that’s how The Slasher was born—a man thrown away by the woman the fates gave him. It makes sense when you think about it. As the days following a broken bond go on, and the self-loathing turns into something else, the rejected begin to crave the blood of the bonded. They feast on those with tethered souls.
But this? I try to swallow. This empty, depraved helplessness clawing at my organs is not a bond being broken.
It is the result of the death of your soul keeper, the final extraction of a bond.
My mate is dead.
My London ... dead.
My body shakes, and I vaguely register it's from the touch of another, but I fall deeper into my mind, seeking hers. I search the depths of my gift but all I find is an empty fucking hole where she used to be. A heart with no beat. A sky with no stars.
A king without his fucking queen.
Baby, I’m so sorry.
“Knight!”
I jolt, eyes peeling open to find a blurry, bloody version of my older brother. “Creed?” I rasp, swaying.
What the hell?
My wrists are bound by fire, as I tilt my head up to see what I’m tied to, only to find a rope glowing a brilliant red connecting me to the ceiling. “Fuck. Where are we?”
Creed hangs beside me, kicking Legend awake as I turn to find Sinner on the other side, trying to pull himself up from the rope.
“Can’t. Fuck. They’ve got us by a Hellhounds Leash.” The very same shit my father used to keep his Hellhounds secure until we needed them. “Who did this?”
Creed finally kicks Legend hard enough for him to stir awake. “I don’t know. The last thing I remember is going to sleep.”
I scan over my memories, trying to think of the last thing I remember. “I killed Alex, then my body, it felt the bond leave me and I—” I squeeze my eyes closed. “Fuck. Then I don’t know. I don’t remember anything after that.”
“I know who this is...” Sinner growls, finally dropping in defeat. “The fucking Ministry. Only they had access to dad’s Hellhounds, and only to them are we a fucking threat.”
“I don’t give a fuck. They’re dead.” I look around the space to try to find our options, but the dulling ache in my chest refuses to release me. Like a fucking constant throbbing of guilt, London’s claw marks that she left on my heart have no chance of leaving. I’m not sure I want them to. If the pain of losing her is all I have left, then I’ll feel it for the rest of my life.