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)
She leans against the back, one hand resting over the edge. The corner of her eyes crinkles and I falter. She is stunning. Beautiful. The kind of beauty that can never exist within the human realm. Kind of like Knight and his brothers.
I find myself walking toward the chair, then I slowly lower myself down. “Why do I feel safe here?”
She pinches a lit skinny cigar between her fingers, crossing one leg over the other and making the silk robe she’s wearing slip over her thigh, exposing long, lean legs. She brings the cigarette to her lips and sucks on it gently. I watch as the ember burns on the end before she slowly lowers it back down, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “I guess that’s a valid question, but unfortunately it’s not one that I can answer for you, London from Earth.”
I clear my throat slightly as she offers me the cigar. I shake my head. “I don’t smoke.”
“It’s not filled with the shit you guys smoke over there. Here—” She urges it forward once more. “Try it. You know I’m not going to hurt you.”
I do. And just like the connection with Knight, I can’t understand why I feel that way in the presence of this woman. This woman who, admittedly, looks deadly. No matter how beautiful she is. It’s the kind of beauty you know the devil would use to lure dumb souls like me into the pit of hell without even realizing.
She chuckles lightly. “So sweet.” Pause. “And accurate.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
She searches my eyes, still not letting up on me not taking the smoke. I lean forward and put it between my fingers, watching as the smoke on the end turns purple.
“I don’t. You’re just easy to read.”
I don’t buy it. Bringing the end to my lips, the taste hits me instantly. A sweet yet deathly spicy taste touches my tongue. I inhale a little, afraid that it’s some kind of weed and I’m about to cough my lungs up. Only my lungs expand easily, leaving the sweet taste of rose in the back of my throat, before I blow out a steady cloud of smoke. My head feels light as my muscles relax, and suddenly, I don’t care anymore.
I don’t give a fuck about Knight.
I don’t care if I ever go back to Earth. In fact, a laugh bubbles up my throat and my hand flies to my mouth to stop it from coming out. Nope. I failed. Because it comes out.
“Holy crap.”
“Careful, little one.” The woman giggles, taking the smoke from me. “You can’t be saying the H word down here.”
Down here.
“So I’m down?” I ask, narrowing my eyes and relaxing into the chair.
“Oh, let me guess,” she starts, sucking on the blunt. I’m pretty sure it’s a blunt. Like for magical creatures. “Deveraux didn’t tell you anything.”
“Nope. The asshole just stole me away from Earth and threw me down a portal without a word.”
“Mmm,” she murmurs, swiping her lips with the back of her thumb before handing me the trunk again.
I take it. Because I’m me. I take another hit, this time more than the last. It goes down the same, almost like air. Damn. This is the best weed ever.
“Stole you, you say.” She clucks her tongue against her upper mouth as if that is not the case. “Well, I guess we can rest in one fact.”
I don’t bother to ask what she means because everything just seems lighter. The stress I felt moments before, the ache in my stomach when I’d think about Ben and how much I missed him. It is all gone. Poof. Up in a cloud of smoke.
“I don’t know what is happening,” I whisper, the most honest words I’ve said in a long time. “Just when I think I have it figured out, I get whisked away to another world. One I never thought existed.”
“I need to ask you something,” the woman says. “And my name is Zhara.”
Zhara. Even her name is all…mystical-like.
“Okay, ask.” I wave to the spot between us.
“What do you know about your childhood?”
I sigh, shrugging my shoulders. “As much as any other person. Birthday parties, a few camping trips.”
“Be more specific.”
Jesus, um. “My uncle raised me after my parents died. We…liked taco Tuesday like most people and I preferred recess over class time, again, like most did.” I shake my head, knowing this isn’t what she’s looking for, but my childhood, aside from being raised by my uncle and not my parents, was literally that normal. “I had a basic life. Why?”
The Mage stares at me blankly.
“Huh. No reason.” Her eyes shift to my hands. “Can I read your palms?”
My hands are meeting hers before I can decide. I watch as she studies the lines, humming and whispering under her breath.