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)
“You!” I grit, reaching forward and shoving him hard in the chest. He doesn’t move, not even an inch.
Instead, he steps forward, causing me to take a step back, but I slam into a wall.
Scratch that. Two walls.
“Me.” He grins, lifting his arm and licking the blood marks clean. I don’t know why, but my eyes follow the action, flicking back up to his when he tucks his tongue back in his mouth.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I glare. “Did you follow—”
I cut my words off, dread spilling down my spine in hot tickles.
Oh my shit, are they the ones who figured out I was a Gifted girl pretending to be Giftless?
Did they sense my power or something and show up at that diner specifically to look for me?
Are they like the Gifted version of bounty hunters?
A hand grips my shoulder and I’m spun around, coming face-to-face with another pair of blue eyes, these ones belonging to the silent angry one from yesterday.
“What—” I begin, but my question dies in my throat when I look to the person at his left.
My mouth drops open at the inconceivably attractive asshole smirking beside him. He’s the identical version of the one who pinned me against the wall yesterday... only there is a clear distinction between the two. Even if I don’t know what it is.
“You … son of a bitch.”
“Accurate.” He chuckles darkly, running his tongue over his teeth. “But you might not want to let her hear that.”
“I kissed you!”
His eyes narrow slightly, and he looks to the one at his side, who hasn’t stopped staring at me, glare hardening by the second.
“I kissed you and you guys tried to make me think I kissed the other one!”
“...the fuck,” he mutters, pretty sure by accident. He takes a half-step forward, eyes flying between mine. “London?”
The big, playful whisperer who had his arms wrapped around from behind comes to stand at their side.
All three stupid gorgeous men stare at me intently. The smirks, anger, annoyance, and even the teasing, long fucking gone. They’re blank slates, void of any inkling that could have possibly clued me in to what they could be thinking.
The sound of breaking glass and loud shrieks of a female break through our ball of silence, and we all turn around.
Alex, as Zeke called her, laughs maniacally as she stares down at a bleak looking girl with soft pink hair curled in a ball at her feet, blood seeping from her ears.
I jolt forward, unsure of what to do but sick of this bitch already. Before I can get close, I’m yanked backward, and this time when I try to break free, I can’t. Held against my will like a fucking hex locked around my body. My feet heavily rooted in place.
Panic surges within me, making my pulse beat harder against my chest. A woman with long, dark hair and a giant glistening crown appears around the corner, milky white tethers seeping from her palms, twisting and wrapping around Alex.
Alex’s eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t struggle.
I would smirk if I could move my lips.
Serves the bitch right.
I wait for the Queen—because holy shit that is the fucking Queen! —to read her the riot act.
“Now, now, Ms. Kova.” Her voice is silken and dark. “Don’t start the fun and games without your future King here to see it. You know how much he loves them.”
In my head, I have officially dropped my mouth open because what the fuck?
What is this shit?
What the fuck did I get my dumb ass into by laughing the words ‘I accept’ like the fool I clearly am?
I mean I am all for the dark and desponded, but I can tell without having spoken a single word to the girl currently bleeding into the sparkling sod beneath her that she didn’t do anything to deserve it.
Is that how women in Rathe roll?
My anxiety prickles, but as I shift my eyes, the only thing I can fucking move thanks to the man wrapped around me, it settles a bit.
All the women are dressed in the most ostentatious gowns. Some figure-hugging and sleek, others low-cut but long. Their hair is down in big curls and their faces soft and lips mostly ripely red for the taking. They wear heels with glitz and glitter that make their legs look impossibly long, especially compared to my fun size self.
Clearly, they all want the seat we’re here to fight for. They look the part of the princess, and I mentally high five myself for going with the complete opposite of what I figured a king would want.
Thick black liner cuts the curve around my eyes, paired with heavy charcoal shadow and raven-licked lips. My hair is pulled up in a high, sleek pony, flowing straight down my spine, only keeping the two chunky face-framers out to direct the curves of my face.