Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
He nodded. “I figured, by your accent. Where are you from?”
Where was I from? Sundara, a depraved mirage conceptualized by liars and frequented by monsters. And what exactly did that make me? Victim? Fool? “The desert,” I murmured.
I saw Dawson tilt his head curiously from my peripheral vision but didn’t look his way. “The desert? Like . . . in the Middle East?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Which part—?”
“That’s the shop right there,” I said, stepping out into the street, and heading toward it. Dawson followed and we both crossed the road, Dawson pulling the door open and holding it for me as I stepped inside. The aroma of coffee and baked goods was pungent in the air, the din of laughter and conversation adding to the warmth.
“There’s a table over there,” Dawson said, pointing to an empty two-top near the wall. We wove through the tables, my eyes going to the place where Zakai had sat with the woman named Giselle. The table was taken, but by two girls, both immersed in their phones. We took a seat and I gave the room another once-over before removing my coat and smiling at Dawson.
“What can I get you?” he asked. “Coffee? Something to eat?”
“Just a latté, please,” I said. How strange it still was to me to drink hot liquids. Then again, I had to admit they were a comfort in the midst of the biting East Coast air. I was reminded for the thousandth time how big the world was, how different its locations, and how much I still had to learn. I knew I was in a much better place, but I missed all the things I was familiar with. I hadn’t had freedom before, but I had family who knew and loved me. Who I didn’t have to explain myself to. Foods that tasted right. Drinks that were the right temperature. And a man who loved me without doubt. Unlike now.
Dawson headed toward the counter where a line had formed. I sat back in my chair, my eyes scanning the shop once more, and this time stopping on a grouping of upholstered furniture near the back that was faced away from me. In the middle of a deep read sofa, I could see the top of someone’s head, his hair as black as the midnight sky. My heart galloped and I rose, drawn to him like a moth to the flame.
When I rounded the couch, I saw that it was not only Zakai, but two girls, one on either side of him, both turned his way, laser focused on whatever he was saying.
He looked up as I approached. “Zakai?”
“Hey, Karys,” he said casually.
“Hey, Karys?” I mimicked, incredulous, putting my hands on my hips. “You promised you’d be in class. You promised.” I grimaced internally at the whine in my voice.
Zakai sighed and one of the girls scooted closer to him, the other staring up at me, her expression both curious and hostile. I felt something inside me shrinking. “Sorry, little star,” he said, his tone bored, “that was a promise I just couldn’t keep.”
I stood there awkwardly. I didn’t understand what was happening.
“Karys?” I looked up, blinking at Dawson, who was standing a few feet behind the sofa with two paper coffee cups in his hands. His gaze moved to Zakai, obvious disdain changing his expression.
Zakai and the two girls craned their necks, looking up at Dawson too, Zakai turning back toward me first, his expression empty, but his eyes shimmering with some emotion I couldn’t read. Why can’t I read you? I used to know your every mood and thought. That shrinking feeling increased, making me feel two feet tall. The hurt that filled my heart was a strong physical pinch.
I glanced at the fawning girls beside him. “It seems to me you’re easier to love than you thought,” I murmured to Zakai.
“Seems so,” he said, his expression unchanging. “Go back to your friend, Karys. He’s been waiting a long time for this.”
I frowned, shaking my head. “Why are you being cruel?”
Something flashed in his eyes, but he covered it quickly, lifting his arm and wrapping it around the brunette on his right. “I’m not being cruel, I’m just busy.”
The hurt inside me felt hot and biting, the weight of all the eyes on me excessively heavy. I only paused a beat before turning and following Dawson to our table, my body shaking, my head swimming with betrayal.
We sat down and I took the cup Dawson handed me. “Thank you,” I said, using it to hide my face until I felt that I had control of my expression. I was lost and deeply confused. What had happened? It had only been a week since he’d looked at me lovingly and promised to sacrifice so we could soon be together.
It felt as though my heart was tearing in two. He was touching that girl. What else did he—