Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
He breathed out the shock and pain, a low, horrified laugh leaving his mouth that he turned toward the ground, trying to gather himself.
His thoughts.
His strength.
To make a rebound on this desperation because he knew what Paula was spewing had nothing to do with the quality of life Autumn and their children had.
It was about him.
Paula wanted him gone.
“Now, get off my property. You will never be welcome here, but my daughter and grandchildren will always be. Autumn will return, just as soon as she comes to her senses and finally sees who you truly are.”
“Paula—”
She slammed the door in his face.
Desperation streaked through his spirit, and he started to rush forward, to pound on the door and demand she listen. But it wasn’t going to change a damned thing.
She would never see him as anything but scum.
He turned and headed back to his truck, climbed inside, and took off down their long drive.
He was barely able to see through the haze of loathing.
For Paula.
For his father.
For himself.
He struggled to see through the disorder. To find a reason. A way.
His teeth gritted, and the blood sloshed through his veins, and he jerked to a stop on the side of the road.
He picked up his phone, stared at it as the voices whirled through his mind.
The hunger.
The hate.
The thirst for destruction.
Gore.
He squeezed the phone as hard as he squeezed his eyes closed, his throat clotting off.
Before he lost his nerve, he thumbed into the phone and made the call.
He pressed it to his ear, close to panicking as it rang.
But he had no other choice.
No way to be the man he’d promised Autumn he would be.
The dark voice answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Stefan.” Milo needed only to say his name for Stefan to recognize him.
A beat passed before Stefan blew out in surprise. “You are finally ready to return?”
“I told you I’m finished with that life. I just need one fight.”
Hurt curled through Stefan’s voice. “So, you only call me when you want something? This is how you treat me after everything I’ve done for you? What does that say about you, Milo?”
Desperation clawed at him. “I just need one job, Stefan.”
Enough to see him through.
“You know it doesn’t work like that. You’re in or out. And you should know the stakes are much higher than they used to be.”
Apprehension billowed through his spirit. He gulped it down. “I’m in.”
THIRTY
TESSA
“Goodnight,” I called to Cheryl from the front porch. She was the last of our guests to leave, staying long after the party had ended since she’d insisted on helping clean up.
“It was the best time. Thank you for letting me share it with you. I’ll see you both soon.” She blew a kiss in our direction before she climbed into her car. She started the engine, and her headlights sliced through the dense, toxic air.
Suffocating.
Excruciating.
At least that’s the way I sensed Milo’s presence, where he stood behind me like a dark mirage.
The hope of something beautiful, but when you dipped your fingers into it, it filled your spirit with poison.
It was my own freaking fault that I’d come to imagine a future he would never allow.
His rejection earlier had hurt.
In a big way.
I’d felt—embarrassed, I guessed. Too hopeful in a moment that felt so real. Lost to Cheryl’s love and support. The love and support of our friends. Milo could have at least taken one for the team and kissed me like he meant it.
But I knew down deep it was all me.
That I’d come to a breaking point.
The realization that I couldn’t keep doing this to myself. Putting myself in a position where I kept getting hurt.
Yeah, I was the one who’d encouraged it. Pushed it. I’d wanted him to open up to me so badly that I’d laid myself out like an offering. Hoping he’d feel it in my touch. That he’d understand.
After tonight, I knew it. Felt it. I couldn’t pretend any longer.
Cheryl backed out and drove away, and I felt the shift in the atmosphere, the low roll of thunder as he turned and moved back into his house, leaving the door open behind him.
I followed, slow to move back through the door, freezing when I was struck with the low, anguished bellow that ripped from his massive body.
Guttural.
Pained.
It was a sound I was sure I could hear from a thousand miles away.
A hook that embedded itself in my soul from where he stood at the island with his back to me.
Slumped over again, though this time, his posture was riddled with stark, gutting grief.
The kind that couldn’t be understood unless you’d experienced it. Been right there to witness it. Felt the desolation of its effect.
“Milo.” His name trembled from my throat and struck the room like a plea.
Energy pulsed. Intense and dark and compelling.
It was a pull I knew full well I needed to resist, but I had no idea how to defy the call of his heart, as if our souls were linked in some way.