Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
So imagine my surprise when—just as we were opposite the Drake table—Saint stopped and turned to me. He took me by the shoulders and, ignoring, the disgusted looks and whispers from his fellow Drakes—drew me towards him and kissed me passionately on the mouth.
This drew boos and shouting from the Drake table.
“Fucking faggots,” Juan Gonzales snarled at us. “What the fuck is wrong with you, doing that mariposa shit in public?” He pointed a finger at us. “You won’t get away with that for long—you hear me?”
“Er…Saint, what are you doing?” I asked, breaking the kiss at last and ignoring Juan and his dire threats.
He frowned.
“You said to look for examples around me of how a ‘good boyfriend’ behaves.” He nodded at the Fae table where Darren appeared to be doing his best to give Kalinda a tonsillectomy with his tongue. “So that is what I am doing.”
“Okay, let me explain—” I began but just then I was interrupted by a large dark cloud which suddenly appeared right in the middle of the Dining Hall.
“What the hell is that?” “What is it?” I heard people muttering. It even stopped Darren and Kalinda’s tonsil hockey for a minute.
The cloud was huge and black, its surface swirling and roiling and little bolts of lightning were flashing through it with ominous rumbles of thunder to accompany them. It hovered there, about ten feet from the vaulted ceiling of the Hall for a long moment, and then it began to move.
My heart sank as I saw that it was moving towards me—towards us.
Saint saw it too, and he pushed me quickly behind him in a protective gesture that was both endearing and irritating. I can take care of myself sometimes, you know. Also, Saint was so tall, it was hard to see around him.
“What is that thing—do you recognize it?” I asked, peeping out at the approaching thundercloud around his broad shoulder.
“It is a messenger,” he said shortly and then added, “It is Dark Magic.”
Well, that didn’t sound too good—I had a bad feeling that my previously perfect morning was about to get ruined in a big way. And the messenger cloud didn’t disappoint.
The moment it reached us, it came down to eye-level and hovered there, rumbling ominously to itself for a moment.
“Who are you from and what do you want?” Saint demanded in a loud voice.
There was no immediate answer but slowly, the cloud began to form a shape. After a moment, I saw it was turning into a face—a big, angry face that was bigger than Saint was.
Now, I know people see shapes in the clouds all the time and they’re kind of nebulous and indistinct and you can’t really see the details, but not the messenger cloud—no, this cloud did a great job with the details. The ten-foot-tall face staring at us was clearly a man—a man with a long mustache and a beard with an angry, disapproving frown between them. His cloud eyebrows were drawn low over his cloud brow and his angry eyes were fixed on Saint.
“Father,” Saint said coolly, apparently not worried at all. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”
“Do not pretend you don’t know why I have come to you, Santiago!” The cloud’s voice was like literal thunder in the now dead-silent Dining Hall. “You are no longer my heir but you are still my son and I have heard rumors that you are bringing great shame on our house and on the entire Western Province of the Sky Lands. Is it true that you have become a lover of men?”
I held my breath, waiting for Saint’s reply. Just a day or two ago he had sat right in the Headmistress’s office and declared that he wasn’t a “lover of men.” Would he acknowledge me now or would he deny me at this critical juncture?
“As you see, I wear the Blood Mark of another male, father.” Saint brushed back the hair from his forehead, baring the softly glowing Mark my blood had left on him. “And he wears mine as well.” He turned his head and nodded at me and I came out from behind him because the time for hiding was over. “This is Avery,” Saint told the angry cloud face. “My Drake has chosen him as our l’lorna.”
“WHAT!” the cloud bellowed. Lightning flashed, lighting up the entire Dining Hall in a dazzling display and thunder cracked and rumbled deafeningly, making the students around us clap their hands over their ears.
But Saint stood firm.
“You heard me, Sire,” he said, lifting his chin. “My Drake has chosen him and, as is the way of our people, my heart has followed my Drake’s.” He took my hand in his and interlaced our fingers. “Avery is mine and I am his. In time, I will claim him completely and we will be Blood-Bonded forever.”