Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 170885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Thank fuck.
Kill’s death would probably be inconvenient. Not to mention bad. At least, for Aunt Reina, who’s Mom’s identical twin.
But then again, this is an opportunity for violence.
How will I punish those who hurt my cousin? Punch them to death? Waterboard them? Step on them—in a non-erotic way, of course?
Too many options.
I take the stairs two at a time and swing his door open, my head sliding in first. “Heard Kill nearly got killed. See what I did there? Also, whose head do I have to cut from their body, rip the flesh from, and hang on a stick—”
I stop mid-sentence.
Well, well, well. Guess who’s here?
Killian’s lying in his bed like a Sleeping Beauty, sans the beauty, and his new girlfriend, Glyn, and Gareth are by his side.
But that’s not what makes me stop. It’s Glyn’s beautiful specimen of an older brother. Also known as the asshole Brandon.
In my house.
I walk inside, deliberately slowly, keeping my attention on him. For a second, his eyes widen, as if he didn’t want to see me in my own fucking place.
Happy to crush your hopes, lotus flower.
He’s dressed in a white button-down that’s tucked into his khaki slacks. Khaki. Jesus. He’s so prim and proper.
All the more reason to ruin the fuck out of that image. See what truly lurks behind his standoffish persona and control-freak façade.
I stop a small distance away. “Now, what do we fucking have here? Did a lotus get lost?”
His expression doesn’t change, imitating a perfect robot, but then he lifts his hand to the back of his neck and pulls. Hard. As if he has a beef with his own hair.
That’s it, lotus flower. Break for me.
This situation is amusing after the shit he pulled yesterday, so I summon my threatening tone. “Was it this one who hurt our Kill, Gaz?”
Glyn watches me with slightly trembling limbs, her eyes flying from me to her overly tense brother.
She hasn’t known me for long, but even she has heard of my notorious reputation and tendencies to punch first and ask questions later.
Though I am asking first this time.
Has her brother also heard of me? I wonder what he thinks of me, and I never wonder what other people’s thoughts are.
But lotus flower is this golden boy who hides more than he shows and I’m thirsty for any crumb I can get.
Not that he makes it easy.
“No,” Gareth says. “Brandon and Glyndon drove him here. They found him near their campus. For more details about the culprit, we have to wait for Killian to wake up.”
“Is that so?” My attention remains on Bran, who’s basically ripping his hair out at this point. “You carried the motherfucker Kill all on your own? I thought you were a dainty lotus, but maybe you’re stronger than you look.”
“I’m going back.” His voice catches at the end as he lowers his hand and smiles at his sister in that fake-ass way. “Want to come, Glyn?”
“No, I’m staying the night,” she says, her gaze falling on Killian, who’s slumbering away without a worry in the world.
Thank you for your services, cousin.
If it weren’t for him, Glyn’s brother wouldn’t be here.
Maybe Kill should get hurt more in the future, work on strengthening his immune system and shit.
Bran frowns but nods. “Call me if you need anything.”
Then he turns around and chooses to brush past Gareth instead of me on his way to the door.
Someone is going to a lot of trouble to pretend I’m not here.
Wake-up call is incoming in ten fucking seconds.
I slip out behind him, not bothering to say anything to Glyn and Gareth.
Bran is already quickening his wide, controlled steps down the hall, head straight and shoulders tense. Like when he kissed Clara.
I catch up to him and fall in step beside him. “If you wanted to see me, you should’ve told me and I would’ve given you a tour.”
“Get over yourself.” He’s looking ahead like a fucking robot. “I’m here for my sister and her boyfriend.”
“Tomayto, tomahto. Wanna have that tour anyway?”
“No.”
“How about dinner?”
“No.”
“A drink?”
“No.”
“Do you have another word in your monosyllabic asshole vocabulary tonight?”
“No,” he says, almost on autopilot, and I jump in front of him.
He nearly walks into me and has to stop abruptly, his throat working up and down, and I can’t help but stare at that gorgeous Adam’s apple. I want to bite it.
Hard.
Maybe draw blood in the meantime.
The red would look fucking beautiful against his fair complexion.
He steps back faster than I can blink.
Even though he’s a couple of inches shorter, he manages to look down on me with that condescension he wears like armor. “Are you allergic to shirts or something? Why are you always half naked?”
“Because I look fucking awesome and it’s a pity to hide it. Also, does this mean you were checking me out?”
“Nonsense. It’s impossible to miss your constant state of nudity.”