Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“Don’t get shot again.” Then I hand him the bottle and turn, leaving him and Lena to it. I don’t know who Lena is or how she came about being a part of this world, but I can see they’re good friends. I’m almost at the threshold to the patio when I hear them both laugh. It’s so foreign that I find myself turning around just to catch a glimpse of Brantley’s smile. They’re joking with each other while Brantley takes long drags of alcohol between each gasp.
“She’s one of the Swans that was freed after the whole Madison ordeal.” Bishop enters my space, and I turn to face him, crossing my arms in front of myself. “Brantley saved her. They’ve been close since.” Bishop smirks. “And to be clear, if it’s not obvious, she likes girls and is more one of the boys than a delicate little Swan.”
I nod my head, because I can’t seem to get the words to come out. Everyone has entered the tent out the back now, so Bishop holds out his arm to me. “Ready to party?”
I hook mine into his. “No.”
Ambient lilacs and gloss white fill the space, with lights flickering in every corner. There’s an ice statue carved in the middle of the room, where red liquid pours out of her mouth, into a pool beneath her.
Bishop gestures to the fountain. “Cosmo? My mom is fancy as fuck and annoying.”
“This is an adult party?” I ask, confused. I was under the assumption it would be a party with rebellious and hormonal teens.
Bishop follows me closely, a smirk on the corner of his mouth. He now has a face painted with a skull like Tillie’s, only slightly different. “Just for the first hour. After that? It’s free game.” He hands me a glass with the red liquid inside. “Listen, I know you might not want to hear him, but just know that when you’re ready to talk, so is he.”
I ignore Bishop’s words, sipping on my cocktail. I lick my lips, sugar rushing through my bloodstream. “Oh, this is good!” I drink faster.
Bishop stops the glass from going farther. “Not that much.”
The sound shot out, but I didn’t feel any pain.
“Run,” the boy in front of me whispered, and I leaped forward as he stepped sideways to let me pass.
I kept running. Until my legs gave way and my lungs burned. Then I stopped, ducked behind a large log, and pulled out my phone. A smile hit my mouth when the screen lit up, but I screamed when a face came into view.
Brantley’s face.
“Game’s almost over, and you’ve nowhere near won.” He whacked my phone out of my hand until it skidded to the side, his other hand around my throat. “I’m bored. Let me kill her.”
Bishop chuckled from behind him. “Just wait. You know how I play.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve played enough, now I’m bored. I need to go home and make sure Lucan isn’t there.”
Bishop tied a rope around my wrist. “Not yet. First, this.”
Brantley
Lena pulls at the final stitch as I stretch out my arm. The effects of alcohol swimming through my blood. She starts packing away her tools, her eyes on mine. I already know what she’s going to ask. She and I haven’t known each other long, but we click. Lena never asks questions. She just exists.
“You gonna tell me about her?” she asks, zipping up her suitcase and falling onto the chair opposite me.
“No.” I wrap my lips around the tip of the bottle and tilt my head back until liquid is lighting a fire down my throat.
Lena takes the bottle from me and guzzles. “Doesn’t look like something new from where I’m standing.” I toss the shirt that’s on my lap onto the table. It’s pretty fucking cold out, but with all the adrenaline from tonight, mixed with the alcohol, my blood feels less human and more furnace.
“Because it’s not.”
“Ahhh,” Lena says, leaning forward. “Is she the girl?”
My eyes snap to hers. “What girl?”
“The one we don’t speak about. I thought she was dead?”
I rushed out the side of the back of the house, slamming the door closed. Thunder clapped above my head, raindrops pelting down my cheeks. I needed to find her. Fuck, but this was getting worse. So much fucking worse than it was last month. My bare feet squished into the mud, curling around my toes as I ran toward the entrance of the cemetery. Trees curved over the entryway like shadows of the night, warriors of the moon.
Then I saw her.
Her body draped in white, her hair long and silky. She was everything that I wanted to protect, but never allowed myself to keep. I couldn’t. It didn’t matter how much we aged; I couldn’t have her.
Ever.
“Saint!” I yelled, jogging up to where she stood. The rain had seeped through the white fabric she was wearing, so it clung to her every curve. I could see beneath that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Didn’t help my fucking case.