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)
Whiskey rages down my throat and I hiss through the aftermath, placing my glass on the counter as my door swings open.
Vaden lazes through with bloodstains littering his white shirt.
I angle my head. “Been having fun without us?”
Vaden removes his shirt from over his head and flings it into the corner of my room. He wipes his hand over his stomach, which only leaves streaks of cruor on his abs. Plucking one of the bottles from the bar, he drops to the wingback chair in the corner of the room.
“She ran.” Vaden raises the bottle to his lips. He swipes the residue with the back of his hand. “So I chased her.”
Priest and I share a look, before going back to Vaden.
He shrugs. “And then killed her.”
I roll my eyes. “I think we’ve topped our yearly record.”
“Eight isn’t bad.” Priest blows out a cloud of smoke.
“It’s March.”
His teeth glisten through the veil of smoke. “I guess there is that.”
Priest’s phone ringing interrupts our conversation and he reaches into his pocket to grab it. “Dad,” he answers and puts it on speaker. “Yeah?”
“How was it?”
“It was fine.”
“And Halen?”
Priest searches me up and down from behind sleepy eyes. “She was fine.”
“Good. For whatever reason, they’re tough as shit.”
Priest’s fingers work around his Zippo. “They’re bred from it. Not sure what you expected. Nature always overpowers nurture.”
Bishop falls silent. “Let’s hope fucking not.” He sighs. “I’m not sure if it was a good idea keeping them separate. They probably should have been with you all from the start. You need to pull them in closer. I don’t care how you do it, just do it.”
“Hold up!” I round the bar to get closer to the phone. “You want us to pull them in closer? How close?”
Brantley speaks next and Vaden freezes. “Do what you need to do.”
“What’s changed?” Priest asks, leaning back on his elbow. “Why has it gone from show them the ropes, to expose them to it all?” His knee starts bouncing and I can feel his agitation overshadow the room as his fingers flex around his glass.
This doesn’t bother me as such. They saw a lot of ugly last night.
“I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone, especially when you’re all in Perdita.”
When our parents were young, the way the Elite Kings were run was a lot different. Priest and Halen’s pop, Hector, had a lot to do with that. Once they all settled down with our mothers, they wanted to change shit. Mainly once Madison came about. Then my mom and her history with this fucking island, as well as my dad and his wandering dick with the women here. It’s no surprise why I find comfort in the confinement of this island.
“We’ll be back in a few days. Got some shit to ship out.” My fists clench.
“The ritual is this Sunday. You all need to be preparing.” He pauses again. “Eli’s trying to call. I’ll see you all when you land.”
“Shit.” I smirk. “Don’t they have a daughter? She still around?”
Bishop falls quiet. “Talk soon.”
He hangs up and Priest kicks my leg with his foot. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I look between him and Vaden. “What? None of you remember their daughter? Eli, Kyrin, and Lilith’s?”
Priest’s eyes dilate. “Yeah, I do, but didn’t she die?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, that’s why I asked. She disappeared when she was young.”
Shit. Maybe I imagined it.
The next day arrives quickly.
Eat, kill, fuck, sleep. Repeat.
It’s the following night when we’re finally back in Katsia’s house. It sure does have its advantages, I have to admit.
The wind is bitter when it nuzzles against my skin from the open French doors that lead to the small terrace, and I move to the side of the room and watch as one of the girls tug at the cuffs around her wrists.
My Calvaria is bound to my face as I cross my arms in front of myself and lean against the post of the bed. She wasn’t cute. I mean, she was attractive, if you were into her kind. You know. The innocent, girl next door, ‘I bat my fucking lashes and shake my pom-poms and get whatever the fuck I want’ kind. Never been into that. They’re too easy. They say yes to everything and never challenge you because they’re so thirsty for your attention.
She is one of them.
Her blonde hair sprawls over her slender shoulders, stopping just above her waist. The bland shade of brown that withers in her eyes is cloudy, and her skin has clearly sweltered beneath UV a few too many times.
She tugs on the chains again and they clatter against the wooden headboard.
The red bandana that’s tied around her mouth does its job of keeping her quiet.
Angry. Blood. Mine.
Leaving my belt buckle undone, I push off the pillar and place my whiskey onto the small desk opposite the bed. I don’t speak, but she follows me with unease. They always do. No doubt they have questions… none of which is why are we here?