Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 160578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 803(@200wpm)___ 642(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 803(@200wpm)___ 642(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“And how much of it is your life if Midnight Mayhem is barely a quarter?” The separation between us alleviates the tension in my muscles.
I blink. “All of it.”
He pauses as a range of emotions fly over his face. From anger to sadness, the corners of his eyes finally soften and defeat wins out. “You’ll always have a home here.”
“L’embruix is my home!” I grind my teeth to stop snapping at him, reaching into my pocket to answer my vibrating phone. We both know this isn’t entirely true. It is a place I lived in for the first twelve years of my life, nothing more.
Tell me, Madness, is he as good as me?
My skin prickles as fear rolls down my spine. He knows I’ll be at the ritual. He didn’t need to fly here to remind me to be back there tomorrow. He texts again.
Lie to me.
“What’s wrong?” Corbin’s face fills my vision.
My response is quick.
I can’t remember. I was too busy trying not to die.
Seconds pass before Corbin’s hand lands on my hip, distracting me. The air in my lungs vanishes when heat spiders up the side of my neck.
He’s here somewhere.
Corbin’s touch has me drawing away from him. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
He observes every inch of me that he can see before grabbing me by the back of my neck and needling his fingers through my hair. “You can run.”
There’s no use trying to bathe his ego with a forged smile. The muscles in my face harden with each passing minute. “I don’t want to.”
His optimism falls into one of resentment, and for a moment, the memories of us when we were children surface. “Fine. You do whatever you want to do, Luna.”
He finally steps back, and the weight of his vacated presence allows the air to flow back into my lungs. He disappears through the back curtains, and I momentarily stare at the flowing velvet, processing my thoughts. Corbin always ran away. He never faced anything that met him head-on, which isn’t what holds me back.
It’s the rapid beat of my heart that’s causing my blood to rush straight to my head.
Shifting my weight an inch, I’m lazy with my movements as I tilt my head over my shoulder. Relaxing in the shadows of the darkest area in the room, the ambiguous light does nothing to hide his sculpted features. A face I tried many times to forget.
“Two times in one week.” Feeling exposed, anxiety twists my stomach into knots. “I’m starting to feel special.”
He stands to his full height, strangling all oxygen in my lungs. Being well over six feet, his movements are passive and calculated. Like a well-fed wolf, he’s patient when playing with his prey. Dark jeans, black designer combat boots, and a relaxed hoodie. So…expected. I don’t know what’s worse. Him answering with his gravelly yet distant tone, or him not answering at all.
Boots hit mine and unlike with Corbin, I have to bend my head to look up at him. “You don’t remember?”
Confusion has my mouth falling open to ask when the text message comes back to me about our last time together.
His finger slips beneath my chin. How can a simple touch shift the ground under my feet.
Directing my focus up to him, I do the worst thing I could. Stare into his eyes. When he visited the other night, I made sure not to get too close, look too long, or surround myself around him any longer than needed because I knew.
Every time I lose myself in his gaze, I fall so deep that I can’t find the courage to get back up. The power he holds is unforgiving.
Obscure lighting accentuates the green and gold speckles buried deep in his glare. The pinching of my scalp when he tugs me back by my hair snaps me back to the now. “Is that a lie, Madness?”
“Maybe,” I whisper, maiming my traitor body before it gets me in trouble. “Guess you’ll never know.”
The laughter from his chest dies out, but his grip tightens. “So delicate. So…breakable.”
“So…” I attempt to shove myself out of his touch. “Mad.” He doesn’t let up, now with his other hand on my jaw.
His eyes weaken, falling to my lips. “Wouldn’t have my attention if you weren’t…” The metal against my thigh burns as a reminder of what I’m capable of, but I let him touch me because no matter what I try to say, how hard I hate him, history doesn’t care. History doesn’t care how much you hate someone because it likes to remind you of the time you loved them.
“You kissed him.” His words shock me.
“I did…” My eyebrow twitches. I’d fall apart if he applied pressure. He can never see my weaknesses.
My scalp aches when he surrenders my hair, treading backward to create distance. “See you at the ritual.”