Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 83401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Shut the door.”
My fingers tightened into my palm before I loosened them and did as he ordered—because God forbid he actually ask.
For a second I just stood there by the door, the small swatch of space between me and him not far enough away for my liking. He stared at me with his dark eyes that always seemed bloodshot, like he’d been inhaling shots back here just to deal with life.
“We need to talk about your attitude,” he finally said, and I felt my mouth go slack. Like legit, my lips parted, and my jaw felt like it unhinged at what he just said.
I shook my head slowly, blinked a few times, then finally prompted, “Excuse me?”
He leaned back in his chair, the fake leather making this gross creaking sound as his heavy weight settled farther.
“With the customers. You have a nasty attitude toward them.”
I opened and closed my mouth. Then repeated the action, because I was seriously speechless.
“I saw how you spoke to that high-top that just came in.” He clasped his hands over his protruding belly and drummed his fingers.
Slowly my shock made way for my annoyance, then my anger. I felt it bubbling up, so sick and tired of this shit. My cup hath runneth over.
“Oh, you mean the high-top with the four assholes who said disgusting things to me?” I crossed my arms over my chest and dared to take a step toward Ritchie. “You mean the douchebag who sexually assaulted me and laid his hands on my body without my consent?” I took another step forward and felt my rage contort my face. I saw Ritchie’s eyes flare slightly, and then he shifted on his chair, clearly uncomfortable with this side of me. “Those customers, Ritchie?” I was a woman taking control and finally done with the fucking shit men threw at her daily.
His bushy dark brows were pulled low, and he stood, walking around his desk before leaning against it. He crossed his arms over his chest, maybe to seem intimidating, but really he looked like just another asshole.
“You can’t talk to the customers that way.”
I scoffed and shook my head. “Are you serious right now? It’s okay to come here and work among these pricks, let them touch me, and I’m the one you’re telling to toe the line?” I shook my head, knowing that me and Bosco’s, me and Ritchie’s professional relationship had come to an end.
“I’m tired of this shit, Ritchie.” He acted like he was the good guy, but in reality he was a slimy pervert who tried to manipulate anyone he came in contact with.
“You’re overreacting and taking this out of context.”
I felt my eyes bulge at his seedy voice, as if he truly believed the bullshit that had just spilled from his too-thin lips. I took off my apron and tossed it aggressively at him, the cotton slapping him on the chest before he scrambled to catch it.
“I’m not surprised you stood up for the assholes who bother us day in and day out. A predator sticks with his own, am I right?” He narrowed his eyes and pushed off the desk. “Fuck this place, fuck these customers, and most of all,” I spat, “fuck you, Ritchie.” I turned and left that bar, hating that I was leaving Dolly alone for the rest of the night, pissed at myself for not being stronger in so many ways, but I had to start thinking about myself now.
I had to start worrying about what I wanted and what made me happy.
And that wasn’t the path I was on.
3
Cian
You could be alive but not surviving. You could breathe, take oxygen into your lungs, feel your heart beating and blood rushing through your veins, but all of that was just mechanical instinct, muscle memory… something that had to work, because that’s how nature intended it.
So you could survive but still be a hollow corpse walking through the world, knowing you were missing the most important part of you.
And that’s what it felt like for every Otherworld creature when they didn’t have their fated mate.
I absently rubbed slow circles around my sternum. The older I got, the more I felt that loneliness, that missing piece of myself that made me the living dead. A dramatic comparison, but the truth was, it was an accurate description.
And for the last two hundred and fifty years, I hadn't been living. I’d taken one day at a time, because I had responsibilities and obligations. Serve my king, train the Guard, and keep searching for her. Always for her. Everything I did was for my faceless, nameless mate.
And although I was loyal to Banner, would die for each one of the soldiers in the Guard, would kill and maim to protect the royal family, my priority would always be to search for my female. She was out there, maybe not alive yet, maybe already having been born in a different time, too far away for me to have ever found her, too long ago that I wasn’t even in existence.