Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
He turns over his shoulder slightly, the gravel crunching beneath his boots. He pauses for a second as his eyes find the thick forest behind the waterfall, but he quickly collects himself when they rest back on me. Maybe he was busy, and that was why he was shirtless. I most likely messed up his kinky little fuck-a-thon.
I look in the direction of the water, the sensation of a thousand tiny thumbtacks pricking at my back as I wait for his woman of choice to show herself.
But then he clears his throat with a shrug. “Swimming.”
A little whirl starts low in my stomach, smothering the irrational irritation that was brewing there.
“Right…” I try to stand again, but the gravel bites into my palms and I wince again, bringing them up to my face. Cuts and grazes are all over the cushions of my hands when he snatches my wrist with his one.
His eyes slice to the small wounds, brows pulling so low it casts a shadow over his features. It’s as if he’s fighting against something I can’t name, his dark gaze flying up to my face, and then back down again, a tortured darkness blanketing him.
My breath runs shallow. “What are you—”
He leans in farther, and my words die in my throat. I watch, completely transfixed, as he drags his tongue over my hand, keeping his eyes on mine.
My body quivers at the connection, subconsciously called closer, but he brings his other hand to my throat, squeezing in warning. He doesn’t want me to move, not a single centimeter. His face hardens, his pupils blown wide. So wide I swear his eyes almost look completely black for a moment, but I know I’m delirious from the heat … or something, when a split second later they seem to flash white.
Too many emotions flicker across his face to name.
“Fuck,” he forces past clenched teeth, his grip tightening on both my wrist and my neck.
Is he going to kiss me?
The warmth of his breath touches my lips and his eyes cross together when we’re too close to see each other. My heart beats erratically in my chest, as if it’s trying to warn me to run, to get the hell away as the birds did.
I’ve never been very good at listening.
My lips part slightly and Knight makes his decision.
He takes them with his own.
My stomach drops to the ground and my veins turn to fire as I deepen the kiss. His fingers trail around the curve of my throat and to the back of my neck, forcing me closer to him. Electricity burns over my flesh the longer we’re connected and I reach aimlessly to the back of his head, fisting his hair and tugging on it. I need to get closer, so much closer. I need to know what his skin feels like beneath mine—god. What the fuck.
He shoves me away and I fall forward from his absence. My ears buzz with the comedown of adrenaline that’s still racing around my body and crashing into every emotion on its way down. My head swims with fatigue as I try to blink past what just happened.
“Fuck…”
“Okay. Wait—” I shove up from the ground, finally able to make it to my feet, but by the time I’m at full height, Knight is gone.
He eradicated the last kiss frozen in my mind. That was different. Darker. More.
There were no butterflies in my belly from that kiss because he slaughtered every single one of them with a flick of his tongue.
Ten
Knight
Two years ago
Rathe
I sit in the chair and watch as our butler carries a long rectangular plate down to the end of the table. We all know why the fuck this meeting was called, I just wish I had more time. I don’t want to go to the fucking human world, even if ours still merely exists in it. Creed doesn’t mind being there, but we all knew he only said that to keep Ministry’s ass nice and buttered. It’s my turn. Fuck.
I can feel Legend’s and Sinner’s eyes on me, but I try to ignore them. Legend, the fucker in particular, can’t wait for me to leave so he can use all my shit. Even though he has his own—and can have his own of everything I have —he still takes more joy in using what isn’t his.
“What do you think?” my mother asks.
The table slowly melts away and turns from liquid gold to solid, with intricate carvings over the base. They tell a story, one that is just as lame as the one that’s happening right now between Mother and Magdalena. Magdalena is the leader of the Mages, representing them as a whole as part of the Ministry. Fucking annoying with an ego the size of a dragon’s shit.
“I think you both signed a contract to state the boys—I’m sorry, the Lords—will attend Rathe U as they should, as all the gifted do upon high school graduation. It allows our kind to exist among humans and trains our kind to see the Giftless as something other than, well, pets. Aside from that, the Lords have been surrounded by Stygians all their life. They will need to learn how to, at the very least, tolerate Argents too, especially if they intend to take the crown.” I want to know who intended for this whole thing to be a democracy.