Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Ana will not die. On the Lord above, I swear I will be the sword that protects her.
The way Kurt’s return tests the delicate bond we’ve sewn, stirs possessiveness inside me. With it, the wholly male side of me burns to reclaim her in every possible way, before Kurt somehow rips her out of my arms and my life. I’m aware of her body, the sweet sway of her hips, aware of how damn much I want to kiss her again, touch her again. Talk is messy. And not the right kind of messy.
Ana reaches the upper level of the house and disappears out of my view. I’m a couple of seconds behind her, following her into the master bedroom that once was Kurt’s, and later Kasey’s. She’s never called it her own, declaring it cursed, as everyone who claimed it, died, or at least pretended to die, in Kurt’s case. But the room was never cursed. Actions lead to reactions. And if we believe Kurt, Kasey’s actions fucked us all.
I don’t believe Kurt on much right now, but it’s a little too easy to use Kasey as a fall guy.
This is why me and Ana need to get right with each other.
All in.
That’s the ending to this story.
Me. Her. Married.
Fuck the rest of the world.
Chapter Six
Ana
I stand in the center of the room that was once Kurt’s, and later Kasey’s, but never mine. It’s cursed, or so I thought it was if you believe in such things, because everyone who claimed it as their own ended up dead, only Kurt wasn’t dead. He lied. It’s a thought I can’t get off repeat in my head.
He’s not dead.
He lied.
All of it was a lie.
I’m on mental repeat, but with good reason. I need his betrayal cemented in my mind. No matter how connected I feel to Kurt, the man I called my only living parent before he “died,” the lie he told was a brutal lie and one that speaks of no confidence in my abilities and decision-making.
He didn’t trust me not to get killed.
If I was that incompetent, I shouldn’t wear a badge.
Or he just wanted to get rid of me. I can’t know which or what combination of all the above comes into play. Because he’s a liar. If he were Pinocchio, his nose would be too long for him to deny the truth.
I forget that thought, and easily, for one good reason: Luke walks into the room and in this moment, I am struck by how beautiful he is, and I know that would seem crazy to most people considering what is happening in my life at present. But he’s my person, the man I love, the one human being I know would never betray me. This point has been driven home more in the past few days than I ever thought possible. I’m just glad I realized that long before Kurt showed back up because Luke, more than ever, needs to know that I’m present and accounted for, and it has nothing to do with everyone else betraying me.
Right now is about him. And us. It’s about everything we’ve ever shared, and all the things I want to share with him in the future. And I do want a future with Luke. I also heard parts of what happened downstairs, which is why I wait for him to shut the door before I say, “I don’t need you to take care of me. I can take care of myself. So, his bullshit guilt-inducing blubber he’s spewing on you needs to go in one ear and out the other. And what the hell is this, Luke? I went to his funeral. I can’t be happy he’s alive and Lord help me, I don’t mean that how it came out. Okay, maybe I do. I really want to kill him right now.”
He’s already in front of me, big and tall. And strong, mentally and physically. He’s actually stronger than I will ever be when he’d say the opposite. He’d tell me I’m the strong one. He’d tell me I make him stronger. And better. But it’s me who is stronger with him. Me who is better with him.
His fingers tangle in my hair and he tilts my gaze to his, as he declares, “Screw Kurt and the horse he rode in on,” the rough quality of his voice sending a shiver up and down my spine and I swear the heat of his body burns through me. My fingers curl around his shirt, holding onto him in any way I can hold onto him as he adds, “You have nothing to feel guilty for. Think about it, Ana. What does it say about Kurt, that we both had to say that to each other?”
“I know,” I whisper. “I’m just confused right now.”