Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Lachlan cocked an eyebrow at Valor, who winked at him. “Aye,” he said. “We’ll return to that discussion later.”
“Always later,” she grumbled, but smiled at the two of us all the same.
Lachlan raised his palms toward me, only slightly out of breath from me gaining the upper hand for once. “Show me you’ve been practicing after hours with your punch combinations,” he said, a tease in his eyes. “I’m sure my brother has been making sure you do your homework.”
I nodded, trying to look as innocent as possible. But the absolute last thing Benedict and I had been working on was punch combinations. Between strategizing, doing recon, and training me, our nights had almost wholly been consumed by mission priority things. But when we were finally able to be alone in his room?
Goddess, he’d kept me up for hours before I’d transitioned, but now? There was no end to our hunger for each other.
“Jokes aside, lass,” Lachlan said, smacking his palms together to regain my attention. “We’re running out of time. We need you as focused and trained as possible if we want to stand a chance against Genevieve.”
“Right,” I said, fully coming down to reality. The one I’d lived in whenever I allowed myself to stand still for more than five seconds.
A reality where my little sister still thought I was dead, because her knowing would only give us a massive disadvantage in the upcoming battle. And there sure as hell was a battle coming.
Because my mother…
I threw a three-point combination Ransom had taught me, the impact of my curled fists ringing out with each connection to Lachlan’s palms. The Assassin didn’t flinch, even as my purple energy slithered between my fingers.
“Again.”
My mother had wasted no time with instating Luna as her heir at Conclave, and even though that is what Luna deserved, I hated that she hadn’t even given my sister a chance to grieve. I couldn’t wait to tell her I was alive…after I finished this.
A four-point combo had Lachlan nodding, respect flickering in his usual cold gaze. “Again.”
I blew out a breath, not because my body was feeling the strain of training—because it wasn’t, thanks to my new vampire strength—but because of the ache in my chest I hadn’t been able to soothe. The one that haunted me whenever I closed my eyes and saw my mother’s ruthless face as she hovered above me, wielding her incredible magic to break every bone in my body. To shred me into nothing.
I punched three two-point combos in a row, my powers ramping up with each connected hit. Every connection, I saw her face. Every hit, I saw her evil smile. Saw her lack of compassion or love for her daughter.
The mother I’d tried all my younger years to desperately please. Tried to be the perfect daughter, but it was never good enough.
Do try harder, Jocelyn.
Don’t become friends with them, Jocelyn. It only makes you look weak.
Stop wearing that, be quieter, think more, Jocelyn.
Tears welled in my eyes, angry and hot and broken as a flood of memories raced through my brain, each one leading to the end where she’d dealt that final blow.
“Shit,” Lachlan hissed, and I snapped back to reality, only now seeing what I’d done to him. Not only had I delivered my punches, but bright bands of purple energy had sharpened into spears, each sharp point aimed at his neck as they hovered in the air around him.
He looked at me, hands still raised, not flinching from the power trained on him. If I needed to keep going, then the Assassin was sure as hell going to let me. And something about that notion, about the compassion he had for me simply because I was his brother’s mate…it shattered the ice around my heart.
Tears spilled over my lashes, a gut-wrenching sob shaking my chest. My magic melted into a whirl of sparkling purple, and my knees hit the mat.
“She killed me,” I said through my cries. Because, she had.
My mother had killed me. I was no longer the witch I’d been. I was something new, something slightly terrifying, and without Benedict? I would’ve ascended into that ether way sooner than I’d ever imagined.
“Aye,” Lachlan said, and I saw him walk off the mat through my tears.
I clenched my eyes shut, the buckets of emotions I’d held back for days finally coming to a head and spilling out of me in torrents.
Weight shifted in front of me, the mat giving under someone as they approached, and I was prepared to wave them off. To tell whoever it was—likely Valor—that I needed a minute. Or a fucking year. Who knew.
“She may have killed you,” my mate’s voice washed over me like a silk wave, and I snapped my eyes open. He kneeled before me, knee to knee, and tipped my chin up. “But she did not break you.”