Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
She was wearing pearls like the belles wore on the first night at the Midnight Ball. She was a belle, overlooking the assholes who no doubt broke her.
I quickened my pace and made my way back to our room, where I found Jasmine waiting for me. She looked relieved to see me and grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the room fully.
“Come on, we have to get out of here,” she said. “I need fresh air.”
I nodded as the whispers of the past grew loud in my ear, and I could feel the ghosts urging us to leave and never come back.
We reached the front door and I pushed it open, the sticky, hot air greeting us as we stepped outside. We both let out a sigh of relief as we left the manor behind us, the demons and their secrets remaining locked within its walls.
21
JASMINE
I was so happy to be at Walker’s side. And out of the stale air of that mansion. Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t breathe in there, even if I opened the window and stuck my whole head out. Plus, Walker suddenly disappearing like that today had only sent that feeling of suffocation and panic through the roof.
I clung to his hand as we headed away from the mansion that loomed like a dark, crouching beast behind us, a silhouetted shadow against the sun setting a brilliant blood orange. Would there be another Trial tonight? Tomorrow? Last night had been tame, I knew, but that only made me wonder if their hunger for more dangerous debauchery would follow.
Especially since Walker denied them all a taste of me last night.
A warm wind whipped across the lawn, cooling the sudden sweat on my brow and I stepped closer to Walker.
But he—
He stepped away. And released my hand.
I looked up in confusion as we crested a small hill. We’d headed in the opposite direction of the lake today and when I took in Walker’s face, lit orange by the sky, I wondered if I had missed the distance in his features.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He turned his face away from me, as if he was looking out and taking in the scenery. Except that was a load of bullshit. Walker wasn’t a stop and smell the roses—or in this case, freshly cut grass—kind of man.
“Then why are you being weird?”
“What?” he coughed out, looking back at me. “I’m not being weird.”
“You’ve barely said a word to me since you came back from wherever it was you went off to a little bit ago. Where were you? What happened?”
“Nothing,” he said again, too quickly.
I squared my shoulders. “I don’t believe you.”
His eyes flared at my defiance. Not unlike they had last night before he’d plunged inside me, and some wild part of me hoped he’d pull me into his arms right here and bear me down to the grass as the sunset blazed overhead. Gentlemanly manners be damned. I was going nuts here. And last night, after realizing I loved him, I needed the reassurance of his body. Not to mention I was craving his touch, and not just during the adrenaline rush terror of these stupid fucking Trials—
For a moment our gazes caught, and I thought I saw conflict in his face. As if he was struggling with something he didn’t know how to explain to me. Please. I wanted to beg but couldn’t. So I tried to say it with my eyes instead. Don’t leave me alone in this. I thought we were a team. Tell me.
His mouth dropped open, and I thought he might spill whatever secret he was keeping, but then his features were marred by confusion. “Mrs. H?”
“What?” I said, baffled.
“She’s down there. Walking past the mausoleum.” He pointed over my shoulder, and I turned around just in time to see Mrs. Hawthorne disappear around the side of the ornamental stone crypt where the founding members of the Order were buried. Walker had pointed it out from our window one time last week.
“Where is she going?” I asked.
“Let’s find out,” he said, striding forward, obviously intent on following her. I had to hurry to keep up. As soon as we got close to the mausoleum, Walker motioned for me with a wave of his hand to slow down, putting his finger over his mouth for silence. I nodded. I got it. We were sneaking.
But we apparently didn’t need to be too quiet, because as we approached, Mrs. Hawthorne was busy being very loud. She was crying, all but sobbing, and not being ladylike about it.
“I’m sorry, lassie,” she said. “I ought to have done better by a fellow belle. I’m so, so sorry.”
My eyes flew to Walker, and I saw his brows were knit together in confusion. He’d flattened himself against the side of the mausoleum, but then he peeked around the edge. When he jerked back, his eyes were wide like he’d just seen a ghost.