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 gentle tug on the leash that’s connected to my collar. “I don’t.”
“Liar!” The whisper leaves behind a residue of ash from my charred voice box.
With one hand tight on the leash, he reaches over to the side with his other, swiping the bottle of liquor. He draws my body close before our fingers weave together. I want to pull away.
I want to fucking punch him. Still might.
But for now, I follow his lead through the sea of people. War and I haven’t had much of a friendship in recent years, but there was one thing that has been constant, and that was how safe I felt around him. It didn’t matter that he was a bad person, or that he had even done anything bad to me.
I loved him. That may have changed after the public humiliation tonight.
Beneath the turmoil of tonight, I can’t hide the way my skin continues to burn and how fast my heart beats. Why the fuck do I like it?
If love is freshly plucked flowers on a Sunday morning and being told how lovely I am, then I don’t want it. I wasn’t made to be handled with care. To me, love is the wilted flowers from last month when most would call them less desirable. It’s being craved to the point of insanity, and the only way to feed the primitive nature of his hunger, is by giving him one simple thing.
Yourself.
His six-foot-four frame towers over almost every guy here, his wide shoulders stretching under his hoodie.
The longer our fingers are laced, the heavier the weight I feel over my chest. Shit. This feels a lot like I fucked up.
I follow his lead, through the playroom and to the elevator in the corner. It’s giving Little Red Riding Hood if she was in love with the Wolf.
His palm lands on the elevator button and obsidian doors open.
“Where are we going?” I bend to look up at him but the mirrored walls surrounding us sway beneath my feet. My hand flies out to keep me steady. “I’m not joking, War. I hate you. That part was too far.”
His chuckle rolls down my spine. “What was? The part where I’m—” The weight of his body forces me against the mirrored wall, as the warmth of his lips trace the line of my cheekbone, stopping at the corner of my mouth. “—not gonna worship the ground you walk on, because I know that the legs doing the walking, would much rather be spread open and fucked?” All the air leaves my lungs. He did not just say that. “Hmm? That part?”
He nips at where his lips rested against mine, using his palm to push off the wall. In the absence of his vehemence, I draw in a deep breath. The doors split open, allowing music to replace the vicious energy of his words.
Frozen in place, panic replaces all else when I realize he’s taken me down to the basement that was reconstructed to a showroom-style garage. Using the entire space from the foundation of the Castle, this is where every car is kept until our houses are built.
Using the first ever EKC private jet as the center piece of the setting, ivory lighting outlines the collection of cars that surround the satin black Learjet 23. People dance around them, almost swiping the paneling of Priest’s McLaren. Anxiety knocks me off my feet when I think of any of these idiots damaging War’s LaFerrari, Vaden’s Hennessey, or any of Priest’s collection of JDM cars, since they’re here until his monster of a garage is built.
Whose damn idea was it to allow this party to expand to down here? I can feel my anger wavering as the alcohol leaves my body. The fist of sobriety pounds against my head, hammering me back down to earth.
I hate him for real this time. I don’t care how horny he makes me. Regardless of how I’m following his steps as he leads me through the open space, or that my fingers are back to being intertwined with his.
“War. We need to talk.” My chest collides with his back when he stops walking. Clearly, one of War’s past conquests have found him out and about.
He releases my fingers, and that crippling anger is back because, excuse the fuck out of me.
Stepping around his mountain of a body, my mouth opens to cuss out whoever the fuck is on the other side, when I pause. Forget cussing, I’ll just straight swing.
“Katsia?” My arms cross in front of myself. For her own safety. “A little far away from Perdita, isn’t it?”
Her brows hit her hairline in surprise, her stare bouncing between us. She settles back on him. “Anyway, I need you.”
“Busy—” He moves her out of the way with his arm, and we hadn’t taken two steps before her next words stop him.