Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“Nah.” She unbuttons her cape and tosses it onto a rose-gold table. “The forest lives with me.” Even with the naked eye, I can’t see where the forest ends. She falls down onto the sofa, holding my stare. “There are walls—” she almost rolls her eyes. “I’m not a complete anim—” she stops herself, seemingly thinking about her next words. “Well…”
I choke on my laugh, carefully making my way to the other side of the sofa. There’s a small coffee table between us with a stack of Louis Faeton and Saint Lycan piled on each other. I almost laugh at the names, wondering if the human world knows some things are secretly stolen from this realm or the other way around.
“You don’t have to worry.” She runs her fingers through her hair to pile it all onto the top of her head. “I swear to you I have pure intentions.”
When I don’t answer, she studies me closely. “Do you know how to read people’s intentions?”
Not very long ago, I would have said yes. That I’m fantastic at reading people. That my intuition was always right, but now?
I shake my head, feeling stupid. I hate this. I don’t do well when exposed and vulnerable. The only person who I could freely fall apart in front of is gone now. You have to be careful who you fall apart in front of, because most people will steal bits that belong to you without the intention of giving it back.
I swallow past the new lump that’s formed in my throat. “No. I guess not.”
Kaia’s eyes move all over my face, and I swear she’s deciding what to tell me next. She’s risked landing her ass in hot water by helping me. I know that I at least owe her some confidence.
“Sorry,” I add, my shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’m finding it hard for me to trust anyone from this world.”
She leans forward and slides off the top of the coffee table, revealing a hidden drawer. She starts moving things around before taking out a long rolled—I’m guessing joint, and a small clear bag of purple glitter.
She nods. “That’s to be expected with your history.”
She lights the end and I sink further into the couch, allowing myself a second to let my guard down. It’s not like I have any other options right now. I don’t even know how to conjure up my own portal to get me out of here, and as much as I know Kaia wants to help, I’m guessing there’s a reason why she didn’t open a portal straight back to Earth. Not that I’m even sure I have anything to go back to there.
I can’t possibly face what I thought was my home without the boy who made it feel like it was.
“Speaking of.” She hands me the burning blunt and I look between her and the ganja.
The last time I did this was with the Mage, and I can’t say that I hated it. In fact, my life could not possibly get any worse at this point. So, I take it, bringing it to my mouth. Inhaling, I let the sweet smoke settle at the back of my throat before slowly exhaling through my nose and mouth. It takes seconds for the effects to take hold, and as each one passes, my muscles relax even more until my eyes weaken and my mind feels lucid.
“Why aren’t you mad at me about my father? And how do you know about him when, as far as I can tell, no one else does?”
She stares off into the distance. She probably won’t answer me. I wouldn’t answer me.
“I have my ways and I have my reasons.” She reaches into her pocket for her phone. “Reasons I’m sure I will share one day.”
I lean my head on the back of the sofa as I bring the blunt back to my lips, inhaling, before my lips form an O and I push smoke rings up to the sky. Kaia can say all she wants, but if this is an actual house, why are there no ceilings? What if it rains?
Shit. Does it rain here? Has it rained here?
I think back to when I was young, but my mind can't focus on anything for longer than five seconds.
Fuck, I’m high.
“Shit…” She chuckles, pulling me out of my stoned stupor. “Well, he may have rejected you as a mate, but he just murdered the dragon shifter who burned you.”
I swallow roughly, and I hate that my saliva feels like sandpaper. I’m tired of feeling hate and resentment—images flash through my head of Ben falling—sinking—dying—no, the fuck I don’t.
“Probably because he wished he could have done it first.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud, and I’m partially glad it was barely a whisper, so she may not have caught it. Or if she did, she’s not saying anything.