Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
A large part of me wanted to believe her, but I’d been burned. It didn’t matter how convincing she was now because she’d been convincing before and I’d fallen for it completely. I didn’t know what to say, so I just resumed walking, forcing her to keep moving.
“You like me too,” she accused. “You tried to ask me out.”
“I did.”
She was probably confounded by my tone and my continued walking, but now I had a plan. At the edge of the garden was the exterior wall and a large gate with one of its iron doors askew. If we ducked through it, we’d officially be outside the castle.
It was one way to be sure we were outside of Void.
“What are you doing?” she asked when we reached the gate and I put a hand on it, pushing it open.
“There’s a path.” I pointed to the gravel trail that led toward the ocean. “Want to see where it goes?” When she hesitated, I straightened and gave her my full attention. “I need to get out from under Void’s shadow and know what you’re saying isn’t scripted.”
“It’s not.”
I gestured to the path, wordlessly asking her to prove it. If I were the one in control, making the decisions, I’d feel more comfortable in believing this was real.
My pulse kicked when she stepped through the gate and turned to glance at me over her shoulder, her expression saying, What are you waiting for?
Every step we took away from the castle made the hurt of her deception fade, right along with my feeling of being a fool. Maybe I hadn’t imagined this thing between us.
It was late, and the moon had already set, so I used the flashlight on my phone to guide our way through the dark forest. The waves of the ocean beat quietly against the shore at the bottom of the cliff nearby, and the sound grew louder as we went deeper into the trees.
We didn’t talk as our feet crunched on the gravel path, but the lack of conversation wasn’t awkward. If anything, it was nice and weirdly comfortable.
At one point, she slipped on the rocky path, and her ankle turned out in her boots, which probably weren’t the best option for hiking. She gasped and started to go down, but I grabbed her elbow to steady her. I wasn’t sure who initiated it, but we found ourselves holding hands, our fingers laced together.
It was intimate, and . . . sexy.
We came across a small picnic area as we strolled, complete with tables and a bin for garbage, and then another shape rose out of the darkness. What had once been a side building on the castle grounds was now a crumbling outline of stone walls and a floor where weeds grew between the cracks.
It felt like we were utterly alone. Just the two of us, no puppet master orchestrating what happened next.
Chelsea released my hand and took a few steps toward the small building that no longer had a roof or windows. “What do you think this used to be?”
She might have been wondering out loud, but I knew the answer from my research. “A gashouse. It used to provide electricity to the castle in the eighteen hundreds until they got on the power grid.”
“Oh.”
I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe she liked the mystery or wanted to imagine something more romantic. She moved to investigate further, walking through what had once been a doorway, causing me to follow.
The floor was no longer level, thanks to years of tree roots growing beneath the stones and pushing them up. But we strolled across the open room, evaluating the emptiness of it, before stopping at one wall that was still standing. It was only waist-high, and she put her hands on it, leaning over. My flashlight illuminated the shallow pit on the other side, where coal had once been stored to create the gas. The wind blew, rustling what leaves were left on the trees, and a shiver shook her shoulders.
Instinct took over. The half wall was so thick, it was nearly a table, so I set my phone down on it and peeled myself out of my coat.
“Here.” I held it out for her to slip her arms into the sleeves.
Her eyes widened. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You’re cold.”
She eyed the coat in my hands with longing but shook her head, too polite to accept my offer. “I can’t take your coat. Then you’ll be in just a shirt, and I already have on a sweater.”
Was she aware I’d never let her win this argument? “You’re shivering.”
She pulled at the neckline of her top, trying to get it to stay up even though it was designed to hang provocatively over the curve of her shoulder. “I’m fine. It’s just my shoulder that’s cold.”