Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“Now that that’s settled,” Dad barks out, “the men going on the hunt can meet me by the gate in just a few. Everyone else can work on supper and getting the children settled for the evening. We’ll dine together and then we’ll be on our way.”
I watch with disgust as everyone who went on the search for Kristen last night stands and then makes their way over to the gate. Everyone except me. It’s so unfair. I’m once again reduced to a cook and babysitter.
Yep, I am so leaving this hell hole the first chance I get.
Dinner was a somber affair. Well, aside from my loud younger siblings making their usual ruckus of course. I was forced to wash dishes alongside Mya, which was torture in and of itself. When I finally managed to slip away, it wasn’t to find CJ to give him a farewell kiss.
It was to be alone with my simmering thoughts.
Darkness has blanketed our homestead and the only light illuminating the area is from the big house and the bonfire where people were once again gathered around after filling their bellies. I make a beeline away from the light and let the shadows swallow me up.
At least in the darkness, no one can see how my chin quivers and tears prickle my eyes. I want to scream and throw a fit until Dad gives in, but deep down I know he won’t. He’ll whip me in front of everyone to make a point if he has to. Not interested in that whatsoever.
I lean against the wall of Ronan’s cabin between his and Ryder’s. It’s impossible to see here and I’m one hundred percent fine with that. I allow myself to feel sorry for myself, sniffling softly. A sob catches in my throat, but I swallow it down until it becomes a tiny, nearly silent mewl.
Crack.
The sound of a twig breaking has me stiffening. It could be CJ come to find me, eager for a kiss. But CJ doesn’t have that uncanny ability to make my blood boil like Ryder does. I can sense his presence without even seeing him.
He prowls toward me, too quiet for his own good, until I feel the warmth of his body inches from mine. I don’t speak and hope he didn’t hear me nearly break down in a fit of tears.
His hand finds my face, curling around my jaw. I want to snarl something cruel to him and wrench away from his firm hold. Instead, I lift my chin, staring into the darkness of where I think his face might be.
Why is he even here?
Why is he even touching me?
I wait for him to get on with it. To taunt me and terrorize me. To shove it into my face that he gets to go because he has a stupid fucking penis and I have to stay here with my useless good-for-nothing-except-making-babies vagina.
He doesn’t.
His nose touches mine. A small brush of skin against skin that has me pausing. All angry thoughts dissipate as an unwanted thrill tickles through me.
He runs his thumb along my cheek. When he feels the proof of a tear gone rogue, he rests his forehead to mine. The move is such a comforting one, I close my eyes. Ronan is my comfort, my savior, my best friend. Ryder is just Ryder. A brat. My nemesis.
But I know that’s not completely true.
Ryder is my equal whether Dad wants to believe it or not. Ryder understands my desire to be free in the wilderness, enjoying the hunt and the freedom to run wild. We get each other on a level me and Ronan don’t.
Is this why Ryder is here? Because he knows it’s unfair and that I’m crushed by being left behind?
“I wanted to go,” I croak out, hating how shaking my voice is. “I wanted to help.”
He rubs his thumb back and forth over my wet cheek as though he can’t stop himself from the soothing action. It dizzies me and distracts me as well.
“I know,” he rasps out, warm breath tickling over my face. “I’m sorry.”
His genuine, pained response has me relaxing. Maybe Ryder isn’t always out to get me or be better than me. Maybe he actually wants me to be by his side.
I grab onto his shirt, not entirely sure what I plan to do. I could push him away from me. If he’d uttered anything cruel, it’d have been so easy to do just that. But since he’s being comforting, I find myself tugging instead.
Would he be hard again if he pressed into me?
The thought is exhilarating and makes my heart stumble. I tug harder, the curiosity overwhelming me. He grunts, losing his footing in the dark, and crashes rather painfully into me. His mouth, open and panting heavily, is pressed against my cheek.