Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
The tone in his voice is tight, as if he struggled to say the words. “We’ve found some old translations of the possible events that could unfold during the ritual. It never happened with us, or with Hector’s generation, so we’re trying to figure out what it means and how a certain herb could be of importance.”
A certain herb? Well, fuck. It better be ganja.
“You think it was true?” I stub the spliff out.
His hand brushes his beard once more, as if battling with the very thoughts that triggered the delay of the ritual to begin with. “What’d you see?”
“I wasn’t out long enough to see shit. Or if I did, I don’t remember.”
Early morning sunrays capture the stress lines around Bishop’s eyes. “You’d remember. That much Hector did know. I know you can’t tell each other, but if you have suspicions, you should voice them.” He shifts his gaze down to my phone. “You tracking her?”
My brow arches. “You surprised?”
“Not a single bit.” He stands, patting my shoulder before disappearing behind me.
The heady bass of Tech N9ne stirs me from my sleep.
Fuck.
My legs swing off the bed as I roll to the side, pinching the corners of my eyes. Once I’m sure my body has caught up, I push off one of the beds in the playroom. It was another area for us to throw parties growing up, but when we were toddlers, it was an actual playroom. Six bunk beds constructed into the walls, all handcrafted into castles. The space was kitted out with all the best toys. I’m pretty sure we all slept here more times than we did at our own houses growing up, since we’ve always been one family.
We kept the name playroom, only now there’s a pool table tucked in the darkest corner, and a wide industrial bar that’s lined with electric blue LEDs. The main parterre garden is on the other side of the room, behind a glass wall. The room uses a lot of the space from the floor plan in the top levels, which is why it’s so large.
Vaden makes it snow over the coffee table he’s in front of, as Priest’s shirtless frame saunters by, his hair in disarray and a bottle of bourbon clutched between his fingers.
It’s fucking Monday and I slept away most of the day, including seeing what time she got home.
Tapping on the GPS app to see where she’s at, my body relaxes when her location picks her up here.
A hundred-dollar bill lands on my lap. “You’ve slept long enough, Sleeping Beauty.” Vaden leans back against his chair, the muscles in his arms rippling when he rests them on the top.
“You know, you’re starting to lose your beloved title of the nice boy of the group, Vade.” My hand finds my hair. That joint this morning knocked my ass right out since it’s now six p.m. “I might need to check you all into rehab.”
Priest eyes me closely as he drops onto one of the single sofas near the pool table. “You find her?”
“I know where she is.” I tap the locator app on my phone.
The door closes behind me and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“She snuck out for a dick appointment—” Halen strolls past, snatching the rolled bill and glaring at me over her shoulder. “Stalker much?”
I flip her off. “Do I look like the kind to give a fuck?”
Her hair flows over her shoulder when she turns her back to me with an eye roll, and my eyes land on the curve of her ass.
My finger twitches, mirrored by the corner of my upper lip.
A sheer black bodysuit cradles every bend of her body, except the black g-string. Murder nonnegotiable if a motherfucker looked too close.
The note disappears up her nostril as the dust of snow vanishes.
Clearing one side, she swings around and lands on Vaden’s lap.
Priest has always had a way of being able to hold an entire room without saying a single word.
The silent echo of his stare locks mine in place as Halen pops off on whatever bullshit she’s going on about.
“So, I’ve discovered something seriously concerning.” She pretends to play with her long, coffin-shaped nails. You have a sister like River, and you get a brother knowing what the fuck coffin-style nails are.
“What?” Priest’s lip twitches.
“Well…” Her head angles to the side, regarding each of us evenly. “You see, it’s very unfortunate that we’re all kind of related. Except for War and I.”
“And?” Vaden stares up at her through dark lashes. He curls a lock around his finger, regarding her with the kind of patience only Vaden has.
“And I don’t find that very fun. Do you?” She shifts her body into Vaden, linking her arm behind his neck. “You may be our holy child, oh dear saved one, but even you have to want sex.”