Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
His laughter dies off almost sarcastically. “Ah, if only that were true.”
Someone whistles from the side and a shrill of adrenaline rushes through me.
I glance up to my group and notice them all watching my encounter with the new guy.
“You should probably go back there…”
“Is that a threat?” I ask, my patience with him wavering.
“Never.”
I swipe my bottle and take slow steps as I make my way back up to the platform. Stopping when I notice everyone watching me, I widen my eyes. “What?”
“Sit the fuck down, Halen.” War points to the chair I was just on, disregarding me.
“Who are they?” I point behind me with my thumb, well aware they know who I’m talking about. I know they know who I’m talking about, since they’re the reason why they’re here.
Priest doesn’t move his eyes from me, and I know that whatever he’s about to say, I’m not going to like. I never seem to lately. He’s my twin and I love him, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say there was a void deep inside his cold heart that not even I could warm. One that I don’t think anyone could, no matter how close they were to him.
War and Vaden included.
“I’m not sheltering you anymore, Hales.” Priest lifts a cigarette to his lips, biting down the trunk and lighting the end. When he does that, he looks like Dad when he was his age. It’s creepy.
He jerks his finger toward me, leaning back on his chair. “You all wanted in, so let this be your first night as a King.”
I hear a faint growl from behind me, but I don’t move. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Goosebumps rise over my flesh, and I step backward on shaky legs. I’m not as sheltered as they think I am, but I am starting to get the feeling that their version and mine are different.
Worlds apart different.
A side of me hates that Dad removed me at a young age and pushed so hard for me to finish school and live a life outside of them, because now I feel like an outcast in a group that has always been family, but another part of me likes it. It means that I get to walk in with fresh eyes. I see through the scope, not just the vision that I’m primed to see.
“It means that I hope you can run in those heels.” I turn, just as War blows out smoke rings, before his lip curves up in a cold grin. “Because you’re gonna need to be able to do that.”
“I can run just fine.” I fall onto the sofa, clutching the bottle of whiskey, only Vaden’s foot connects with the base and he kicks it out of my hand. “V!”
He shrugs. “Probably won’t help you tonight, little one, and after last night, we need a few to recover.”
“I don’t need help!” I glance sideways.
“Mmmm, whatever this game is, I’m playing!” Evie piles her long hair onto the top of her head.
I choke. “No. You and River can go—”
Priest interrupts this time. “Agreed. They’re going.”
The heat of War’s rage warms me from my side when his long fingers close around my hand, and he places a plastic cup in my palm.
My eyes narrow as I refocus on War’s face. His mouth is in a flat line, cold as stone. Will my feelings toward War always be as clouded as they are now? Maybe.
I take a small sip of whatever he gave me anyway and hiss when the poison touches the tip of my tongue.
River and Evie shift together, forming one, as someone blurs toward them. Evie laughs, music plays, and my head turns fuzzy. I don’t know how long I sit here. Minutes. Hours.
I push myself up from the sofa but stumble back down. Shit.
What the fuck was in that drink?
Fuck love.
And fuck him too.
My eyes watered as I stared up at the small oval carved into the plank above my bed. I traced the lines so many times that it was almost engraved in my head.
Not that it wasn’t already.
Not because I did it myself.
A halo. Symbolic for something pure, protected, cared for.
Pulling the blankets up near my chin, I hide beneath them, ignoring the pungency of mold and sawdust. I began to count to five then six in Latin. I’d felt the wane of my anger burn behind my eyes the longer I was here.
I stopped longing for deliverance.
For my best friend.
For the carefully constructed life I’d been fed, only to have this choke me.
I didn’t care anymore. I just hated that every time I swallowed, it felt like razor blades were stuck in my throat. I wish they were. I wish it were real blades that cut me open and bled me out until I was nothing but a corpse on the floor.