Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
“Be nice to my friend.”
“Always.” Then his lips are at my ear, his voice too low for her to her. “In fact, just last night, I was very nice to her. Isn’t that right?”
Holden and Thayer take over the conversation, talking about flashlights and firewood. Meanwhile, I’m trying not to have a panic attack. I don’t hate the dark, but I don’t love it either, and I’d feel a lot better about this whole situation if I didn’t feel like I was in the middle of a horror movie wearing nothing but a towel.
“Don’t you have a generator or something?” I ask when he ends the call.
“I’ll check the garage, but I doubt it has any gas.”
Figures. “Just know that if we get attacked by inbred cannibals, I won’t hesitate to leave your ass in the dust.”
“Bold of you to assume you could run faster than me,” he taunts. “Plus, we’re in Vermont, not the fuckin’ Appalachian Trail or wherever the hell that movie takes place. In the middle of a blizzard, I might add. No one’s getting to us.”
“That’s even worse,” I mutter, holding out my hand. “Give me my phone. I need to get dressed.” It’s getting colder by the second, my battery is low, and I can’t begin to process this disaster until I have clothes on.
I narrow my eyes at him when he hands it over, waiting for some witty comment that never comes. Using the flashlight on my phone, I hurry back upstairs. I opt for the warmest outfit I packed—a white pair of sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt. It’s still cold, even with a shirt underneath, but it’ll have to do. After putting on a pair of socks, I write out a text to my mom, letting her know the situation. Maybe she can find a way to get me out of here. I’d even take a favor from my father at this point. But the red exclamation point next to my message tells me that I won’t be so lucky. I try to call instead, but it doesn’t even ring. Before I can try again, my screen goes black.
“Shit.” Why didn’t I charge it earlier when I had the chance? It’s going to be a long couple of days.
Valen
I think about yelling for Holden to turn on his flashlight to make it easier to get downstairs, but I made it down once. I can do it again. I don’t have to ask, though, because when I step into the hall, I’m met with the scent of burning wood and an orange glow emanating from the fireplace below.
Thank God.
I fold my arms across my chest against the cold as I make my way down the stairs. Holden is knelt in front of the fireplace, crumpling up a page of newspaper before tossing it in.
“Well, I guess you’re not totally useless.”
“Was that your idea of a compliment?” he asks, turning his head to the side, the flames illuminating his disgustingly perfect profile. “If so, it could use some work. See, a good compliment would be, ‘Wow, Holden. Not only are you a big, strong, insanely good-looking sex god that made me come so hard I saw stars, but you’re also incredibly useful in emergency situations. I’m so lucky to have you here.’”
“As always, your modesty overwhelms me. And once again, may I remind you, the jets made me come so hard I saw stars. You were merely…a witness.”
He lets out an amused sound, as if he didn’t expect me to say that, but he recovers quickly. He stands to his full height, then turns to face me before eating up the distance between us. “In that case, I’d like a do-over. One where I’m an active participant in making you come.”
It’s not just the words he says, but the tone of his voice and his nearness that has me feeling flustered. This is what Holden does. He flirts. He chases. He catches. And then he loses interest.
And that’s a problem because? It’s not like I’d want to actually be with Holden, but I don’t want to be discarded like yesterday’s trash once he’s had his fill either.
“And I’d like to not be stuck in a blizzard without power, but here we are.”
He smirks, flicks my nose ring, then heads to the kitchen. He lights enough candles that we can make out our surroundings. The food from earlier still sits on the counter untouched and covered in aluminum foil. He peels back the foil on the turkey. “Come on. Might as well eat this shit before it goes bad.”
“How long do you think this is going to last?” I ask, leaning back on my palms, feet stretched out in front of me. I’m stuffed and finally warm, thanks to the food in my belly, the champagne running through my veins, and the fire warming my skin.