Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 114936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
The first time I rode a bike, I was running from Kyrin. My parents were almost never home because they were always on the road, but when they were, my mom made an effort to bake. She’d make donuts that would dissolve on the base of your tongue, leaving an after-taste of buttery cinnamon sugar that would leave you craving for more, long after the last one had been eaten. Kyrin was angry that I had eaten the final donut. That’s how petty my brother was. I swung my leg over his bike that was a model or two too big for me, and I kick-started it to life. I didn’t have time to think because I squeezed the handle and it shot forward. Lucky the Nero manor at The Village backed up to a forest clearing because I didn’t know how to slow, brake, or stop. Kyrin was yelling at me from behind—probably about the donuts—and the wind was whisking through my hair at speeds I didn’t dare look down to see, and it was all frightening at first. It wasn’t until I figured out the clutch, the gear change, and—thankfully—the brake, that I recognized the power between my legs. I continued through the forest and didn’t look back. Trees zipped past me, and I directed the front wheel onto a dirt path, the same one that Kyrin rode on, and I ran on. It took you to all the other manors in The Village if you stuck to the path, but I’d never gone to the middle. I’d never strayed off this path when I wandered.
I squeezed the handle and the bike zipped forward. The faster I went, the wider my smile. I looked down at the speedometer in time to see the stick tilt to the side as I picked up speed. I needed one. No, I needed one now. I couldn’t believe The Brothers all got a bike and no one ever asked me if I wanted one. What kind of staunch masculinity was that shit?
I hit the brakes when I came to a crossroad, leaning the bike to the side and closing my eyes as the engine twanged between my thighs.
My eyes popped open, and I jumped on, launching forward onto the clearing that had no path. The trees were far spread, and I didn’t know if it was nature or The Fathers had hired someone, but there were never really any fallen trees out here.
I slowed down a little since I was on a path of uncertainty, but I continued at a speed fast enough to think I knew where I was going. The wind continued to assault my hair, and the smile never left my face. I dodged rocks and branches from the rogue path of the forest, when I saw that the path ended a few meters ahead. I tapped the brake and skidded to a halt with dirt and twigs flinging into the air just as I hit the edge.
“Holy shit…” I peered down over the edge, my feet tingling with adrenaline. Down the bottom of what looked like a hundred-foot drop was a large lake of water, but what backed up to that was what stopped me. There was a large building with ceilings that could rival the Midnight Mayhem tent. Four large spikes arched to the sky, but instead of whatever the tent was made of, it had walls. Glass walls that were tinted black. If it wasn’t for the metal Kiznitch star that was stapled above the opening, I would have thought a rival group had been living below us all this time.
The bike continued to idle between my thighs, and when I revved the engine and started to back away, movement from below stopped me. Keaton glared up at me. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but jeans.
I tilted my head.
He shook his and waved his arm at me to leave.
What was this place and why had it been hidden?
Literally.
One week later
Cartier Nero was notorious for landing her ass in hot water. Constantly. And this is a real fucking problem when she has access to four weapons at her disposal who all would die and kill for her. The killing part is important… because we do it. Often. For her. And by we, I mean usually Ky and me.
The little bitch flutters her lashes and gets whatever the fuck she wants because she’s Cartier Nero.
Midnight Mayhem’s princess.
The fucking Ice Queen of Kiznitch.
No shit. She earned that name, not from her teal hair—the color of water when it freezes over the ocean bed—but because that’s exactly what she is. A cold ass bitch. Her parents’ first mistake was putting her into a normal ass school and not allowing her on the road with us, because now—I was pretty sure I’d burn this house down with all these stupid fucking pupes still inside.