Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Don’t look back.
My legs pump beneath me, blood roaring through my ears as I break into a run. I prefer to be the one doing the chasing, but this place is wrong. So fucking wrong. Too clean, too still, too…everything. It doesn’t taste like salt and coal. It doesn’t burn when I breathe in too deep.
I need Zev. I need the violence. The dragons screaming overhead. The constant certainty that death waits around every corner. Not this. Not whatever hell I’ve been forced into. Not Legend’s hands on my skin; and not the way my entire body detonates like a damn landmine when he does.
A mate.
I run harder, ignoring unfamiliar landscapes that blur past. Trees that aren’t charred from an angry dragon. Grass that is actually green.
My hut. My weapons. My island where things make sense and nobody talks about queens or bonds or—
“Going somewhere, little monster?”
I duck on instinct, rolling as Legend lands directly where I’d been standing.
“Fuck off.” I’m already moving again, but he’s faster. Bastard. Of course he is.
His hand closes around my wrist, spinning me back against his chest.
I lash out with my free hand, aiming for his throat, but he catches my wrists while I thrash around like a pathetic animal.
“Let me go. I don’t want this! I don’t want you!”
“Liar.” His eyes widen. “Your pulse is racing and your pupils are fucking dilated. You can taste me, huh?”
I can. It coats everything like honey mixed with something else. Something poisonous.
“I’d take the dreams,” I spit at him. “The strangling ones. The drowning ones. I’d take all of them over this.”
Something flickers across his face. Gone too fast to name.
“Then it’s fortunate,” he says, voice dropping to something dark and possessive, “that you don’t get to choose.”
He pulls me in close, and for a moment, I sense we’re not alone.
Figures emerge between thick trees. People. Just fucking people dressed in trousers and starched shirts, their faces a mixture of confusion and fear as they stare at us both.
At me. A caged animal dragged from its filthy habitat and dropped into this ridiculous world purely for their amusement.
My blood runs cold. I need to get away. If there was ever a time that I could try, it’s now.
I wrench my wrists, a feral snarl tearing from my throat. See. Animal. “Get your fucking hands off me.”
Legend’s grip loosens just enough. It’s calculated, almost, but I don’t stay around to test it because I pivot and sprint forward, my boots tearing up the manicured lawn. The air is thick with the scent of cut grass and unfamiliar flowers. It’s so sweet it’d make me rot.
Good. I’m away. I’m—I count ten paces. Maybe twelve. Just as hope flickers—that stupid, ridiculous thing— he’s there. A shadow moving at the edge of my vision and cutting me off as I veer toward a stone path.
“This is getting pathetic, Hellpet. Just stop.”
“Fuck you.” I dodge around him, my shoulder slamming into a student who yelps and stumbles away.
Before I can figure out my next move, he grabs the back of my shirt. The material strains as he yanks me backward. My feet leave the ground, and he spins me, slamming my back against the rough bark of a tree.
His body cages mine, one hand pinning my wrists above my head and the other tilting my chin up so my eyes meet his.
Clearly, I’d underestimated the royal douche, but that doesn’t mean I’ll give in easily.
His eyes burn, the amusement gone and replaced by something even hotter. Darker.
“Every step you take away from me just makes it worse,” he breathes, his voice a low growl that vibrates through every bone in my body. His hips press against mine, a hard ridge that leaves no question about his intent. “I swear to the gods, Haide, I’m gonna fuck you against this tree until I forget what I was mad about.”
My breath hitches. Shit.
It’s not an empty threat. It’s a promise. A future he’s promising with every possessive line of his body.
Heat pools low in my belly. Traitorous fucking thing.
Fight or flight? I’ve always been better at the first.
“You’ll have to catch me first,” I whisper, letting my head fall back against the tree.
He grins, a flash of white teeth. “I already have.”
Cocky. Perfect.
“No,” I challenge. “You haven’t.”
I lift my knee up hard between his legs. His hold on my chin vanishes as he grunts, but the grip on my wrist isn’t letting up. It’s not enough. I swing my head forward, cracking my forehead against his. Stars explode behind my eyelids, but he stumbles back a step. It buys me just enough time. My right hand is free.
My fist connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack. His head snaps to the side. For a single, glorious second, he’s just a man I hit. Not a king. Not a mate. Just a man with a broken nose, if I’m lucky.