Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
I tighten my fingers around the bracelet, then release it.
Fuck him.
I haven’t touched a strawberry since I left. Can’t swim, watch TV, or even study without seeing him everywhere.
In everything.
He’s like a curse, embedded in my bloodstream.
And because I can’t help myself, I ask Simone more questions, probe further, and dig deep into Kayden Davenport, who’s entirely different from Kayden Lockwood but somehow the same.
She tells me about his parents, his dad, in particular, about his moms and why they were banished and what he had to do to protect them. She talks about Grant, the slimy bastard, and Cassandra. About their open, arranged marriage, which surprises me a bit, because he kind of loses his shit when he sees me with someone else.
I listen to Simone talk in a steady voice, not mincing her words but apologizing when she curses. She tells me about Vencor and what he had to do to be in it. I’m not sure why she feels confident enough to tell me about some sort of a secret society, but maybe it’s because she feels guilty for lying, and now, she wants to make up for it.
Or maybe this is a ploy from Kayden, but I doubt he’d ever want me to know about this. That man is like a vault, really. He keeps all different compartments of his life separate.
His resistance to the Taser and the drug I injected him with makes sense now that I hear about all the poison and pain-endurance training he had while growing up.
And I’m having this tingling urge beneath my skin, the one I always had about others hurting what’s mine. I have it toward his dad and Vencor.
And this Julian, who’s the reason why Kayden’s vision grows bad sometimes and why he had that fever and was coughing. It’s why he had that ‘accident’ after which his moms visited. In reality, he had a major immune system attack. Apparently, Kayden’s been doing these off-the-record drug experiments for his pharmaceutical company.
Apparently, the lavender I remember smelling in his apartment in the first few weeks I knew him is Cassandra’s scent. I don’t know whether I should laugh or cry that he did stop having that scent in the house right after the time I walked in on him in that ice bath.
I think I fall asleep with a frown between my brows after Simone tells me Vencor is the reason he can’t be in a relationship with a man. That they’d kill him if they found out about me.
Who the fuck are they to decide whether he should be with a man or an alien?
Fucking assholes.
A part of me wants to scream. Another wants to kill them all, one by one, and fill the void with their blood.
Long, lean fingers thread through my hair, their touch familiar, deliberate. His amber scent fills the air, curling into my lungs, and his warmth seeps into my bones, warding off the ever-present chill in my chest.
He always feels so warm in my dreams. His touch soothing. His presence grounding. It’s as if I can almost feel his heartbeat under my fingertips, steady and alive.
For someone desperate to get over him, I surely sleep a lot, as if chasing fragments of him in the recesses of my mind. To lose myself in the echoes of his touch. To steal fleeting moments where I lay my head on his lap and watch TV, back when things felt simpler.
“He’s lost weight.”
His voice, hoarse yet deep, slices through the haze of sleep. His fingers feel more solid, more real. Careful, hesitant.
My heart jolts.
But I don’t move. I remain still, breathing evenly, holding on to the fragile figments of my dream.
“Are they even feeding him properly at home?”
The tenor of his voice rings in my ear and rushes to my starving heart.
His fingers burn against my scalp, not in a painful way, but in a way that ignites every nerve in my body. The good kind of burn. The kind I’ve been fantasizing about every night when I close my eyes.
“Are you going to pick a fight with his parents if they aren’t?” Simone’s voice cuts through the moment.
And that’s how I know.
It’s not a dream.
She’s never in them.
Only him.
So he’s here. Right here. Sitting beside me, my head resting on his thigh. My fingers twitch involuntarily, and he catches them, lifting my hand to inspect the Band-Aids covering them.
I should open my eyes and tell him to leave. To stop invading my space, my mind, my everything.
But then he brings my hand to his cold lips, pressing a kiss to each finger. My entire body shivers, and I know that if I open my eyes, I’ll fall back into bad habits.
Namely, him.
“You better not pick a fight,” Simone says, her tone sharp. “Pretty sure his dad, grandad, and brother want to kill you on sight.”