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)
I jerk to a stop, spinning around and stepping into his space, which is annoying, as it’s exactly what he wants. His smirk is all-telling, even if he is attempting to hide his anger.
“The only thing going to my head is a dick three times the size of yours, so if you want to sit here and throw childish fits and insults, I’m game. I’ll go first. I was glad when I found out you cheated because that meant your lackluster cock was now someone else’s problem and I didn’t have to be the one to tell you to invest in some Viagra and maybe a pump or two.”
Trevor’s hand wraps around my bicep. Something explodes behind my ribs, causing my chest to jerk, but I swallow beyond it, yanking against his hold.
He’s relentless. His lip curls up. “Do you really think some trust fund kids think you’re worth any more than an easy lay?”
“As long as they think I’m a good one.” I manage to tear myself from his arm, shoving his chest slightly for messing around, and hurrying in the café doors.
A gust of wind comes out of nowhere, flows in behind me, blowing my hair in my face, and I swear it acts as a tornado, yet soft as it whirls around me once. The tension leaves my body instantly, and I spin around to see if Trevor’s following, and my jaw drops at the sight.
Trevor is on his knees, blood pouring down his face, his nose busted and split open, but there’s no one around.
Moments after I notice, others begin to as well, and people rush to his aid.
My brows pull and I step up to the glass door, pressing my hand against it as I stare, my mind reeling, and then heat presses back at my palm, warmth wrapping around my fingers and down my arm until it penetrates beyond my skin.
My stomach erupts with a million little lightning bugs, their wings tickling and teasing from within, and a small smile forms on my lips before I can stop it.
When I lower my hand, my print slowly fades from the glass, but as I take a step back, a larger one stares back at me.
I suck in a sharp breath, pressing my hand to my chest. My eyes flick beyond it, to find Trevor being carried away by a campus cart, and when I look back, the print is gone.
Suddenly, I’m hit with a crippling wave of loneliness.
It’s irrational, yes, but it’s real. Strong.
Unsettling.
I need my fucking coffee.
You would think a basic psychology class would, at the very least, be entertaining, only it’s nothing but lecture after lecture of an old man voicing his opinion rather than anything else, so to say I’m dreading the hour and fifty minutes of nonsense is an understatement.
I decide to down an extra shot of espresso at the café to help settle my nerves. So what I am looking forward to doing is slowly sipping on my extra-large, hot latte and getting lost in the nutty, sweet flavor, while ignoring every word spoken by the middle-aged man who needs to stop dying his hair by himself. At this rate, I’ll be kicked out of the university before next semester. I’m going to have to suck it up and ask Ben for some hardcore tutoring if I want to have even the slimmest of chances in meeting the bare minimum allowed GPA required to keep the scholarship I somehow landed here. Honestly, that’s probably the biggest accomplishment I’ll ever reach, and that’s pathetic.
Lowering onto my seat, I kick my boot out in hopes that no one will decide to sit in front of me; but even though I choose the very last row at the very top of the auditorium-style seating, nearly all the way against the wall, it doesn’t work, and some guy drops into the chair. Why? I don’t know. He’s wearing glasses, and while my vision is damn good, even I can hardly make out the lines of a man sitting at the desk below.
It doesn’t take long for all the students to arrive, and then the doors slam closed, our professor pushing to his feet with his nifty little headset that looks like it belonged to a telemarketer fifteen years ago.
“Today, we’ll be going over chapters fourteen to seventeen, so please pull out your notes and—”
He’s cut off when the door nearest him is thrown open, and I nearly choke on my drink at the man who walks inside.
I jerk upright, lowering my paper cup to the small tray beside me, my eyes flicking all around the room, searching every other entrance and snapping back up front, over and over again.
None other than what I guess is the oldest brother, Creed is his name , saunters over to the professor with an air of confidence no man, especially one as hot as him, should possess.