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)
A Stuprum, who is what Katsia is, are who keep the feminine balance of our world. I don’t know if that’s why she is here, but it’s who has always operated Perdita. For generations, a Stuprum woman has controlled the island, and how they do that is by breeding, raising, and grooming the Lost Boys. They may not present themselves as soldiers, but the morbidity of their violence is held inside their minds. You don’t want to ever be on the receiving end of their wrath.
The civilians of Perdita are a little different. They’re the retirees of Founding Families, secrets of the Fathers and their affairs, or families and people who take refuge here for various reasons. Some can be because they don’t want to conform to the way of the world, and for others it’s because they’re on the run from someone or something. Whoever resides in Perdita must abide by their one rule.
You don’t hurt your own.
There are no jail cells here and you don’t get second chances. You abide or die. For a lot of people, that’s easier than living amongst society. There are no taxes, no currencies, no questions asked when you see shit go down on the streets. You will be taken care of here—until you harm one of our own.
The Lost Boy doesn’t say a word as he pours a shot of Don Julio into a glass.
I swirl the russet liquid, before allowing it to slide down my throat like silk.
“You don’t want to play with the rest of them?” he asks with detachment. I’d never been with a Lost Boy, but I’d heard whispers about what they do.
“Maybe later.” I lean back in my chair as he refills my glass. His pillowy lips curve up a little when he slides my drink over to me. My fingers flex around the glass but when they touch his, I gasp and my eyes fly to his. Maybe I’m acting out because of War’s little back and forth with Stella, or maybe I’m agitated because of War’s little game in the dark.
I spin my barstool around to see what they’re all doing, when I find everyone already watching me. Except Stella, who’s examining the pledges.
River’s head shakes from side to side with an eye roll. I know what she’s thinking. Great. How fucking long is this going to take?
“What?” I ask broadly, swinging myself off the stool while swiping the bottle of Don Julio from the Lost Boy. “I’ll play. Just—” I drag out the S while turning to Stella, who lowers me back down beside her.
I bring the bottle to her lips while peering up at the three of them from the corner of my eye, purposely ignoring War. “Give us a second.”
“What are you playing at, Halen?” War asks from behind Priest and Vaden.
This time I let myself find him and my stomach coils like hot wire.
His tongue sweeps his bottom lip.
Stella clears her throat, breaking the tension between us. “Are you going to pet a Lost Boy?” I throw a wall up inside my mind before her words can penetrate. “Halen… fire. You’re playing with fire.”
I need to move. To get up and move.
Pushing back up to my feet, I ignore Stella’s warnings. “I can do what I want.”
When I turn to my brother, his eyes are hard on mine. I’d never seen him look at me this way and I know where it’s come from. For so long, he thought I had to be protected because that was what he thought I needed.
Until now.
Now he’s questioning if I’m as insane as he is.
I raise a single brow at him, patting his shoulder. “Not quite, but enough to be a Hayes.”
His thumb skims his bottom lip to hide his pride. “Well, shit.” He buries his face into the side of my head and tugs me under his arm. “Then let’s fucking go.”
I turn back to look at the eight people kneeling in front of us, while taking yet another swig of the tequila. “Stand.”
They obey, unfolding to their full height.
My eyes bounce over them as I amble down the line. I stop in front of one of the girls. She’s pretty. Resting my finger against her cheek, I notice their hands are no longer tied to their backs. “Remove your blindfold.”
She trembles as her fingers flex over the mask. She peels it back, squinting before her arms fall to either side.
“Pretty.” I smile, angling my head. “Such a shame.”
Her blue eyes rest on mine, her mascara having long since left a trail of ink down her cheek.
Vaden comes close enough for his hand to wrap around her chin, forcing her face in his direction. When her eyes brighten, he shoves her away.
“Your first task…” War steps closer to her while placing a cigarette between his lips. He pulls a Zippo out of his pocket and blazes the tip, inhaling tightly. He doesn’t shut the Zippo and I watch when the flame draws closer to the blonde. Her pert nipples harden as her chest rises and falls, her desperation reeking over the nicotine.