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)
“Yep. Last-minute shit for the ritual.” Vaden shoots back a finger of whiskey, turning his head. The single cross tattoo on the side of his neck catches my eye and I grin.
Vaden takes the steps down to the sofa as the lighting in here dims, enough for us to be able to keep a watchful eye on the masses that are rolling in through the back.
“I found a new tattoo artist. Did I tell you?” He rolls up a dollar bill that’s beside the dust of coke, throwing his Philipp Plein hoodie over his head and lifting his gaze to mine. He says his eyes are different because when he was conceived, his soul was in a tug-of-war with which side it wanted to pick. The dark—his dad—or the light—his mom. It couldn’t decide, so it took both. Over the years, his blue eye has started to bleed dark…
“Oh yeah? Is he hot?” River asks suggestively, wriggling her eyebrows while lighting the end of a joint. She hands it to me.
I hold it between my lips.
“She,” Vaden corrects. “And not my type.”
“No one is your type, oh unsaved one.” Halen leans down, planting a kiss to his cheek. Ignoring me on her way to the other side of the lounge, she’s most likely going to continue to ignore me for as long as she can. I can do this song and dance with Halen Hayes until my fucking legs give out.
“I brought a snack.”
My smile drops to a scowl. I pinch the blunt between my fingers and aim it toward her, flicking it onto her lap. “Leave.”
She plucks it, unfazed. “Fuck you, War.”
I hold her stare. “You already tried.”
She freezes, the blunt just a whisper away from her lips. She’s the first to break away, desperate to change the subject when Priest lowers onto the single sofa that sits in front of the glass doors that lead to the backyard.
You can see everything from here. People gathering out back, cars driving through the paddock gates and parking in a line. The pool illuminates blood red, where a DJ is setting up from his deck in the corner. Every group from Riverside University is here. All of them. It’s funny, because none of us attended the school, but we didn’t have to attend the bullshit system to be feared. They aren’t stupid.
Clearly.
Except for whoever Halen’s little toy is.
“What do you think, War?” River leans her head on the armchair, until her long blonde locks touch the floor. She blows smoke rings from between her lips. “Should we do a drag train tonight? Maybe take the peasants out to our new destination?”
I shrug, watching as Vaden strolls past River. He holds her gaze while dragging his finger across her throat as he moves toward the bar on the other side of the room.
“You’re lucky about that no fuck oath, Vaden…” River watches after him. “Cousin or not.” We all fall silent and she rolls her eyes. “I’m kidding. It was just kind of hot.” I know she isn’t. Not that any of us would do as our ancestors did and happily fuck around with each other, but we sit in limbo of we don’t fucking dig up old shit. In fear that there is DNA crossed way back then.
Vaden and Stella are our cousins, though, through my mother being their mom’s half-sister. They never grew up together. Saint is also Bishop’s half-sister. About as close as Halen and I will ever get to incest, since her dad shares a half-sister with my mom, without either of them sharing the same parent or blood.
Yeah. I know.
And no.
“Jesus… this how you girls act when we’re not around?” I point to both River and Halen, but I hold Halen’s stare.
My sister perfected the art of lying to me as soon as she knew how to talk, but Halen… she can lie all she wants through those pretty little lips. Her soul tells mine tales that I bet she would kill to keep hidden.
“Worse,” Halen teases, crossing her leg over the other. She’s wearing a vintage band shirt that hangs slightly off her shoulder, little black shorts, black thigh-high boots, and a leather harness strapped around her thigh. Her tits swell out of the small tear down her chest.
My eyes fall to the soft curve of her breasts. “How?”
She pushes up to the front of the sofa, snatching her phone off the coffee table. “We can do a train. I know just where we can go. Where’s Stella?”
My eyes fly over her shoulder and land on the raven-haired vixen walking her way up through the masses. She snatches a drink off some dude and sinks it in one go, tossing the cup into one of the many trash cans we have set up.
People usually get crazy when we have parties, but no one comes into the house. Not ever. Only us and who we invite in. A guy tried once, and I shot him on the spot. Wish I could say I was joking. He healed. It’s fine.