Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Well…” Nate begins, standing from the bed and walking toward me. “When it comes to real shit, I mean shit he cares about—which is pretty much nothing, aside from you—you’re safe. I can vouch for that, Kitty.” He pulls some loose strands out from under my shirt. “He won’t hurt you.”
“Promise?” I ask, looking into his eyes.
Nate nods. “I promise.”
UNLOCKING MY TRUCK, I SLIDE into the driver seat, as Nate gets into the passenger, deciding he doesn’t want to drive today. “How’s Daemon?” he asks, pushing buttons on the radio.
“He’s okay. Katsia wants him back and is demanding a meeting with him, but I want to be there.”
Nate looks straight at me. “You’re not going anywhere without the Kings, and you damn well know that.”
“No, look, I need to handle this on my own. I read a bit about the Lost Boys last night, and I just…. I have questions I need answered, and I know if you guys are there, she’s less inclined to give me those answers. So please.” I look to him, putting the car in drive. “Just let me handle this on my own.”
He doesn’t fight, just shrugs and hits Play on Kendrick Lamar’s “Humble.”
I laugh, shaking my head as I pull out of our driveway. “I swear you were living in the hood in your past life.”
“Tsk tsk.” Nate shakes his head. “Don’t stereotype.” He starts bobbing his head to the beat and raps out the chorus. Laughing, he waves his hand. “Come on… rap it with me….”
Shaking my head, I turn onto the main highway that leads to school. “No thanks.”
School is boring, and I truly feel like I’m over it. “At least this is our last year,” I mutter to Tatum.
“True!” she agrees, shoving books into her locker. I pause, thinking about the order Katsia spoke about in the book. So if we’re all leaving for college, then that means there’s a new group of Kings that are going to be starting next year. I need to call Daemon. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I shut my locker and press Call on his name. He picks up almost instantly, his voice soothing like hot chocolate on a cool winter day.
“Are you okay?” he asks, curt, straightforward, and blunt, but it’s Daemon, and from how short I’ve known him, you don’t usually get any other tone.
“Yes, but hey, I need to talk to you about something. Are you home?”
“I am.”
“Okay, be ready and I’ll pick you up.”
“See you then,” he replies with the same tenor, hanging up.
“Jeez,” Tatum murmurs beside me. “His tone? Does he hate the world?”
Her assumption annoys me. Daemon is a lot of things, some things not even I completely know yet. “No,” I snap. “He’s just… different.”
She shrugs, and we both start walking toward the elevator. “Different, as in Ted Bundy and Jack the Ripper different, or different, as in ‘I draw naked in the moonlight’ different?”
I roll my eyes, pushing the button to take us down. “Probably more on the Jack the Ripper side, I’m guessing,” I murmur, and she looks at me.
“No way.”
“I said probably, not definitely. Anyway, keep your paws off him.”
“Hey!” She throws her hands up, and we step into the car. “I don’t want to be another victim. I’ll stay away.”
She won’t stay away.
We get into the truck and I put it into reverse. “I’ll drop you off. I just need to have this conversation with Daemon alone.”
“Are you going to tell me what is going on?” she asks. She didn’t ask in an entitled tone. It was more in a way as if she’s worried and wants to know everything is okay. Which is Tatum. She’s outgoing, blunt, a little flirty, and a lot sassy, but she’s real. She’s always kept it real with me, and she will forever be my best friend.
I exhale. “I am. Just… give me some time?” I look at her briefly as I pull out onto the main road.
“Okay,” she nods, “I can do time.”
Driving up to my house, I beep the horn, deciding to wait in the car for Daemon. He comes walking out in a dark suit, buttoned up at the front.
“Huh!” I look at him as he slides into the passenger seat. “You go shopping?”
He looks down at his clothes and then back to me, his eyes expressionless. “Yes.”
Pulling out of the driveway, I turn to him slightly. “This talk, can we do it in English?”
He nods. “Yes. I might be little slow, but yes.”
I smile and turn the radio on. “Jungle” by Tash Sultana starts playing, and I hit it up a notch. I love this artist. She’s from Australia and completely underground, but her voice is soulful and her music touches you deeply.
“Are you okay?” I ask Daemon when he doesn’t say anything.