Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 170885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Only, there’s nothing nonchalant about him. The twat could only be described as mental.
“Heard he’s into a lot of shit,” he continues. “Landon, I mean. He’s the reason you’re here, right?”
My eyes widen behind the mask. “Are you the one who sent me the invitation?”
“And you didn’t disappoint. Brother love for the win.”
I storm toward him and grab him by the collar of his shirt, hauling him so close, his chest collides with mine. “Where is he?”
His hand shoots up to my hair and he grabs a handful, pulling at the roots until my head snaps back, then he peers down at me. “Where do you think?”
My grip doesn’t loosen on his collar. I don’t care if he’s crazy or downright insane. If he messes with my loved ones, I’ll be his worst enemy.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” I grind out.
“Why? What will happen if you repeat yourself? I’m kinda curious, and by kinda, I mean I have to know. Now.”
“You—” I cut myself off because his mask scrapes against mine.
His breath bathes the plastic and my lips.
“Hmm? What? What am I?” he asks with an edge of lunacy, like a child ghost in a haunted castle who keeps repeating himself in a distorted voice.
I shove him away and he stumbles back, letting go of my hair, but like an elastic band, he bounces right back, invading my space and crowding me.
He’s much more looming and intimidating in person. And I don’t even get intimidated.
“Stop!” I place both hands up and the bastard bumps right against them, his muscles flexing beneath my fingers.
“You still didn’t tell me what I am. Go on. Don’t leave me hanging.” He grins, the motion looking savage behind the bloodied mask. “Is it something good? Or bad? Either? Neither? Both?”
“Just stop.” I have to keep all my strength in my hands as he pushes and wiggles against them like a damn bull.
The sound of his tut echoes in the air as he finally quits trying to glue his chest to mine.
I still keep my hands up, not trusting him to discontinue his frantic movements. I can’t help noticing how taut he is, like a wall.
His pectoral muscles twitch beneath my fingers and I drop my arms to either side of me, chasing away the haze and the strange taste of adrenaline.
When I speak, my voice is calm. Collected. In control. “Landon. Where is he?”
“Fucking dull preppy kids,” he mutters under his breath, then turns on his heel and marches in the opposite direction.
I stand there for a few seconds, my breathing condensing on the interior of the mask. Then I follow after, my legs feeling weightless and completely foreign, as if they’re no longer an extension of my body.
“Are you taking me to him?” I ask when I fall in step beside Nikolai.
He whips his head in my direction and I have to suppress a cringe at the sight of blood. It’s not a view I’ll ever get used to, no matter how long I try.
“If I do that, what will you do for me?” he asks with that glint that I swear was muted not two minutes ago.
“Not report you to the police for your illegal activities. Though you should consider a change of hobbies to something less violent.”
“But where’s the fun in that?”
“Being normal for once?”
“Is that spelled boring?” He gets close and I step to the side, narrowly escaping his shoulder bumping into mine.
“Back off.”
“Ah, fuck. I want to defrost that layer of control you’re wrapped in and see what lurks inside the preppy boy.”
My teeth clench and I release them slowly so as not to trigger the sensation I’ve been coexisting with for most of my life. “I’m not a boy.”
“Whatever you say, posh kid.”
“What the hell is your problem?”
“Me?” He points a thumb at himself. “You seem to be the one crowded with issues, boy.”
My nostrils flare and my hand balls into a fist.
You have issues.
Lots of them.
You don’t want to be a disappointment.
Nikolai tilts his gaze to my hand, bouncing off his heels as if he’s waiting for a Christmas present. “What you gonna do with that? Punch me? Just so you know, you might get disgusting blood on your pretty hands.”
The urge to hit him snaps my muscles into a tight knot, but I force my fingers to uncurl.
I don’t do violence. Ever.
This crazy wanker won’t be changing that.
“No? Bummer.” As fast as they sparkled, his eyes become muted again, turning into two orbs of black.
Black on black.
Black on—
I briefly close my eyes to chase away the clouded thoughts. When I open them, I catch a glimpse of Nikolai stalking into what looks like an annexed house.
I didn’t notice it earlier during our walk, too focused on the bastard and his unpredictable behavior to watch where the hell we were going.