Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I consider lying, but these guys have a way of seeing right through me, so I give it to him straight. What’s the point of holding back details now? “Is that so bad?” I ask. “It’s not like I’ll be around long enough for it to be an issue. You, Sawyer, and Easton seem to share just fine.”
“Something tells me Zade isn’t the type to share,” he says, giving it to me bluntly. “Plus, isn’t there a morality clause when it comes to fucking the dude who’s going to end your life?”
I scoff, watching as he continues with the ball, shooting another perfect shot. “I think morality went out the window a long time ago.”
Dalton laughs. “Too fucking right.”
Abandoning the great idea to come up here to draw, I drop down on the edge of the court and watch as Dalton moves up and down the rooftop. Leaning back on my palms, I kick my feet out in front of me, crossing them at the ankles and settling in for the breathtaking show. “So, like . . . do you guys actually live here with Zade?” I ask, realizing that question had somehow slipped my mind until now.
“Nah,” he says with amusement playing in his eyes. “We’re just staying while . . . you know.”
I roll my eyes. “While you wait for my brutal murder?”
“Yeah,” Dalton cringes. “We all have our own apartments in the hotel, but we have other properties too. I’ve got a place about twenty minutes from here, but I don’t usually stay there. Not when all the guys are out here. Besides, there’s a rooftop court here. What more could I need?”
“Fair point,” I say. “What about Sawyer and Easton?”
Dalton laughs, quickly glancing at me before launching himself into the air and dunking the ball through the hoop. “Shit, you know you really got under his skin when you called him Cross last night? I don’t think he was expecting to care so much.”
I don’t respond, instead holding his stare until he answers my question, but my heart races with his comment. I like that I got under his skin, that something so simple as calling him by a name everyone else uses was enough to throw him over the edge. There’s something about him that I can’t get enough of. He gives me a thrill, and I love it. He’s so mysterious, and every time he touches me, whether it’s a subtle brush of his arm as he walks past or when he grips my chin and demands my attention . . . The rush is too much. He’s intoxicating.
Dalton finally continues, dragging me out of my thoughts. “Sawyer lives across town in a fucking gated community because he’s a bitch like that. But really, I think he likes to be close to his sister since she got all independent and shit. She bought her own place over there and as much as he’ll deny it, he hates the thought of something happening to her. But if you ask me, that girl can more than take care of herself.”
I nod, wondering if I’ll get the chance to meet this mysterious sister before my dreaded twenty-seven days are up. “And Easton?”
Dalton scoffs. “That asshole would happily live in a cardboard box on the street if he had to. Nothing fazes him. He doesn’t give a shit as long as his snakes are happy.”
“Wait. Snakes? As in plural?”
“Yeah,” he says with a soft chuckle. “His place is close by. Cross wanted to be somewhere that was as far away from his father as possible but still within the city. He rarely goes there though. Only when shit goes down and he needs to recoup for a few days.”
Dalton goes quiet as he gets into his game. Not wanting to dig too deep into their lives, I scoot over and get comfortable on my stomach, bracing myself on my elbows as I position my drawings in front of me.
Allowing myself to get lost in my thoughts, I get busy working on my vision of the cells, and after a while, I put the finishing touches on it before moving to the other one. I spend ages on it, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get it right. The look in Zade’s eyes as he clutches my heart isn’t right. I can’t seem to capture the same depth in his eyes that I saw in them last night. Originally, I drew them with cruelty, but seeing the strange sadness and determination last night, it all feels wrong.
I get lost in the drawing, focusing way too hard on Zade’s eyes and the more I fail to get it right, the harder it becomes to hold back my frustrations. Just as I’m about to crack my charcoal in half and toss the bastard over the edge of the roof, a shadow settles over me, blocking my much-needed sunlight.