Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 125121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Rafael inclined his head. “Any reason he came up with for why he had to sleep with her, instead of just dating her, would’ve made him sound like a cheating pig. Annika would’ve straight dumped him. But,” he drew out. “If he told her about this grand prize of money or moving their status higher in the Royal hierarchy, I could see him selling her that it was all for their future.
“I’m doing this for us, baby. Sleep with one Dreg and we’re the new king and queen of Regalia, not Victor Wilson or Saylor Burkhardt.” Rafael cursed. “Yeah, I could see it going like that. And if he spilled the truth to Annika, he spilled the truth to Gabriella. He really did love them both.”
“Gabriella knows more. I can feel it.” I snuggled into Cato’s arms. He wrapped around me, but didn’t head south. Seems I killed the mood by bringing up his dad in the middle of foreplay. To be fair, that would kill it for anybody. “I’m squeezing her of every bit of information.”
“Not by yourself,” Lucien said. “She’s over there planning to squeeze you too. All she has to do is get the phone off you. We all know she’s not above leaving someone to die.”
“I won’t say no to one of you guys nearby and watching my back, but an attack from Gabriella is low on my list of worries right now. We need to talk about how we’re going to get Wesley, Levi, and Owen before they get us.”
“You threw out the plan,” Rafael reminded.
“Because now we need them scared. Piss-their-pants, trembling-in-a-puddle-of-vomit scared of me and what I’ll do to them. That’s the only way they’ll turn on the Phantom.”
“You’ve thought about this for a long time. Tell us.”
A slow smile spread across his face. He was right. I’ve thought about what I’d do to those five every day since I got Winter’s letter.
“This is what I had in mind...”
I TOSSED AND TURNED on the sheets. Sweat dampened the back of my neck, untouched by the spinning fan or wheezing air vent. Giving up, I slid out from Cato’s arm and padded downstairs.
Light crept up the staircase. I slowed down, listening to someone’s shuffling footsteps. Who else was up at three in the morning?
“Wilder? Lucien?” I came down a little more. “Rafael?”
“Keep going,” said a dry voice. “You’ll get to my name eventually.”
“Victor.” I stepped off as he turned off the stove.
“Hey,” he said, waving me over. “Join me.”
I inhaled deep. “What’s that smell?”
“That, Luna Sinclair, is the best damn hot chocolate you’ll ever drink in your life.” I blinked when he took my hand, leading me inside. Victor grasped my waist and picked me up, getting an “ooh” out of me. Gently, he placed me on the countertop.
“Milk, chocolate, cacao powder, and maple syrup. The maple syrup makes all the difference.”
I watched in fascination as he got out more ingredients and started making mine. His movements were sure and precise chopping the bar of chocolate and whisking it into the bubbly, milky, syrupy goodness.
“I didn’t know we had organic cacao powder.”
“You didn’t,” he said. “I brought some things from home.”
“Didn’t need to bring the chef.” I breathed deep, tension leeching away. “Who taught you how to make this?”
“Learned a few things from running around the kitchen when I was young. It became a late-night treat when I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t allowed to use the stove, so I’d wake up Adonis to make it for me.” He smiled—the same kind of smile I made when thinking of good memories with Winter. “He never got mad or chased me off. He’d make our cocoa and we’d drink it on pillows in the living room. I’d almost always pass out and wake up in my bed the next morning.”
“That’s really sweet,” I whispered. “Sounds like a great big brother.”
“The best.” Victor turned his back and went to the pantry—Wilder’s pantry. I opened my mouth to warn him, and stopped. That wasn’t late-night cocoa talk. Let the things that could be said in the morning, wait till the morning. There were so many other things Victor and I had to say to each other.
“Want anything with it?” he asked. “Cinnamon stick? Marshmallows?”
“Marshmallows, please.”
Victor poured out our drinks, topping them both with marshmallows. He stepped between my legs, handing me mine. I held my breath as he rested on my knees, blowing on the hot treat.
Taking a sip, a moan escaped unbidden.
“Yep, that was the sound.”
My eyes popped open. “I didn’t make a sound.”
Laughing, Victor made himself comfortable on my lap. “Why can’t you sleep?”
The back of my neck was ten times as hot then. His nearness was doing worse for my internal temperature than my racing mind. I was not into Victor Wilson. My body just didn’t know that.