Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
With my hand on Samuel’s shoulder, I closed my eyes, hoping to catch at least a few hours of sleep. My dance session would be a mess otherwise.
I woke up on the floor. Even before I opened my eyes, I knew that was where I was. My stiff neck and back definitely spoke a clear language. But the worst pain was in my head. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this shitty after a night of drinking.
I peeled my eyes open and stared at Emma. She sat on the floor beside me, propped up against the bed, her head tilted awkwardly to the side. One of her hands rested on my arm. I rolled to my back, and her hand slid to my chest.
Fuck. What happened?
Renato must have brought me home last night. The idiot should have taken me to his place instead. Emma didn’t need to see me like this.
I sat up despite the lightning strike of agony that hit my brain. I touched my temple and blew out a breath. After another moment to gather myself, I pushed to my feet. That was when I realized that my shirt hung in tatters from my body, and my pants looked as if an angry kitten had ripped into them. I found the scissors on the nightstand. I shook my head in amusement, then regretted it. Emma must have cut me out of my clothes. The thought sobered me immediately. Fuck. I hadn’t noticed someone cutting clothes off my body with scissors. If someone had used the moment to attack… Dammit.
I bent down despite the way my vision swam and lifted Emma into my arms. She stirred as I gently laid her down in bed, and her eyes fluttered open. “Shhh. It’s just me. Sleep.”
But her eyes opened all the way, and the look in them was like a douse of cold water. I moved to kiss her, but her hand came up and covered my mouth. “You smell like a liquor store.”
I straightened. “I’ll take a shower and brush my teeth.”
Emma tried to sit up in bed, then winced. “Ouch. Sleeping on the floor is a bad idea. Everything hurts.”
“Why did you?”
She gave me a look as if that should be obvious. “I was worried you’d throw up and choke on your vomit. I wanted to keep an eye on you.”
“I was fine.”
“You were not. You didn’t notice anything. You and Renato broke all our vases and decorations downstairs.”
“You can buy new stuff. You didn’t even pick the decorations, so this is your chance to get something that fits your taste.”
Emma gave me an indignant look. “Samuel, this is serious.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t make a big deal of it. I’m a grown man, and sometimes men get drunk, especially after a shitty day.”
I turned around and headed into the bathroom. I wasn’t in the mood for a discussion like that, especially not when my head felt like it was about to explode. Though, I’d probably never want to have this discussion.
I shoved down my briefs and what remained of my shirt, then stepped into the shower and turned it warmer than I usually showered because the prospect of cold water hitting my head wasn’t enticing at all.
Leaning against the tiles, I closed my eyes. After a couple of minutes, I could hear Emma enter the bathroom, then the sound of water in the sink followed by the electric toothbrush and the occasional squeal of her wheels.
I slowly opened my eyes and turned the water to as cold as I could bear, all the while watching Emma. She was focused on brushing her teeth, but I could tell she wasn’t happy with the situation. I stepped out of the shower, rubbed my hair dry, then wrapped a towel around my waist before I joined Emma at the sink. She looked up at me, her eyes briefly lingering on the bruises on my upper body. A few of the recruits had managed to land hits but nothing major.
“Why was yesterday shitty?” she whispered. Her brown eyes searched mine with concern and tenderness.
I sighed. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to share with Emma. Finally, I said, “Two recruits had trouble with the questioning. For one of them, it was his second attempt to become an initiate, and he failed again because of his inability to withstand pain.”
Emma grimaced. “How old was he? I’m sure he’ll grow used to pain over time.”
“Sixteen. Old enough to bear the pain I caused, trust me. He’s too weak.”
“And that made you mad?”
“No, what made me mad was his reaction to me telling him he wouldn’t become an initiate. I had to make a bloody statement.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You killed him?”
“No, though it would have been a suitable reaction. I cut off the tip of his tongue.”