Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
It’s been some time since I’ve felt that.
Since I’ve felt the dissociation from the world like this.
Where everything is disappearing and turning foggy except this rage inside of me.
Where my heart races and races like a hurtling train and I don’t recognize myself or anything else around me except the thing I want to destroy.
“What the fuck,” I growl.
They break apart at my voice.
My brother looks annoyed like he wasn’t expecting the interruption. But once he realizes who it is, his face clears of that emotion and I watch as shock and a tiny amount of guilt flashes through his face.
It lasts a second, that expression, until he goes back to being his cocky self.
As he steps forward and situates the girl behind his body. Somehow, I’m able to tear my eyes away from him to glance at her. Only because I want to know who the fuck is she.
Who the fuck is he fucking around on his fiancée with.
Only to realize that I know her.
She’s one of our sister’s friends, the redhead. I’ve seen her around at family get-togethers. She also sometimes works on the waitstaff for the team events. Although I can’t remember her name.
“Look, you need to –” Shep begins.
My gaze snaps back to him and my fists curl. “You fucking around with our sister’s friend?”
His jaw clenches. “It’s not what it looks like. It’s –”
That gets me.
His casual statement.
The statement that people make when they know it is exactly what it looks like.
Before I’m aware of it or think about it, I’m on him.
I grab the collar of his jacket and fucking shove him back against the truck. I hear the redhead scream with alarm. I can also hear her voice in the background, agitated, scared but that’s as far as I can be conscious of things.
Right now, it’s me and him and this fucking wildfire in my veins.
Despite being in a chokehold, Shepard turns his head to the side and commands, “Go.”
“But you… He –”
“Jupiter,” he says gravely. “Leave. Now.”
I don’t wait to find out if she obeyed him or not. I pull at his collar, causing him to jerk his eyes back to me. “Does she know you’re engaged?”
“She’s none of your business. She –”
“You know, of all the things that I thought would finally make me break,” I say, twisting and twisting his collar, my body feeling too hot to exist right now, “Of all the things that I thought would finally make me snap and beat the shit out of you, I didn’t think it would be this. You with a random girl like you always are.”
Finally, he gives up all pretenses too and goes for my fists on his jacket. He grips my hands, trying to get out of my hold. “You keep her out of your fucking mouth, or I will break it.”
I want to laugh.
I’m not a person who sees humor in things, but this is hilarious.
The fact that my twin thinks that he can break something on my body.
But then again to be fair, he doesn’t know the depths of my dark need. He doesn’t know exactly how long I’ve kept myself under leash. He doesn’t how long I’ve pushed and pushed this anger down.
“I almost want to warn you,” I say, pressing his spine harder against the truck, watching pain flash through his features. “I almost want to tell you exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into. But I’m not going to. I think it’ll be more fun if you find out the hard way. What happens when you fuck around on your fiancée that you claim to fucking love.”
Again anger flashes across his features. “I think we both know who’s fucking around here.”
“You –”
“I know, all right,” he declares, his hands still on mine. “I know you’re fucking her behind my back.”
His words make me go still.
They bring the roar in my ears to a screeching halt. It subsides the burn, the heat in my body. It brings the world into focus a bit. I watch Shepard struggle against my hold almost dispassionately. I watch him wanting to get free but I don’t let go.
Instead I ask, “How long?”
He pauses, panting. “Always. Since day one.”
“It didn’t…”
“It didn’t what?” he asks, taunting me. “Didn’t mean anything? It wasn’t what it looked like?”
“No,” I say. “It meant everything. And it was exactly what it looked like. But it didn’t…” I take a breath and confess truthfully, “It didn’t feel wrong.”
He watches me for a few seconds. Then, in a low voice as if he almost doesn’t want to, “This, what you saw, doesn’t feel wrong either.” I tighten my hold on his collar and he goes, “So can you let me go now and fucking get off your high horse.”
Is that what he thinks this is?
That I’m on a high horse. That I have any morality left in me.