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)
“The bond demands proximity,” she says. “Especially in the early stages. The longer the separation, the more intense the pull becomes. It’s not uncommon for newly bonded pairs to become volatile when kept apart.”
Volatile. Another fun word.
I think about the ache in my chest when Creed mentioned Legend. The weird tightness that flared up when I thought about biting someone else in spite. The way my skin prickled when I landed on this campus, like it was a living, breathing thing, waiting for me to arrive. Only once I was locked away inside could I finally breathe that sigh of relief.
Fuck.
The lecture drags on for another hour, and by the time it ends, I’m ready to claw my way out of my own skin. I shove from my seat and head for the door, ignoring the curious stares that follow me.
If these people tuned into the little show when the Royal assholes announced reopening the school, they would have heard Legend’s little declaration.
Did that part get shared across the realm?
Did they hear him stake his ridiculous claim?
Do I want them to have?
I sigh, annoyed with my damn self. No. No, I don’t.
Because it’s not true.
Outside, the air is cooler, and I suck it in like I’ve been drowning.
I need to move. Need to do something that doesn’t involve sitting still and listening to people explain how screwed I might be. I don’t understand this place, and the worst part of it all?
There’s this pestering in the back of my mind, warning me that the longer I’m here, the more I might want to.
That would be a terrible fucking idea.
Chapter Eleven
Legend
The rot’s denser here.
It hangs in the air like it’s got nowhere else to go, bleeding into the bark, curling through the spaces between ancient stone. Sulfur stings my nose, but there’s something underneath it. Something heavier. Death, maybe. Or whatever the fuck lingers after.
The river cutting along the shifter quadrant looks all kinds of wrong—less silver, more like the color of a bruise that hasn’t quite healed. Clouded and murky.
Sick.
Knight’s crouched by the tree line, fingers trailing over something half-swallowed by moss. “This one didn’t even make it far enough to run,” he says, voice flat, detached.
I step over a body twisted at an unnatural angle, my eyes catching on the mark burned into the ground next to it. Some crude emblem smeared in ash and blood—a moon split clean through by jagged lines. I’ve never seen a sigil like this. Not on this side of the realm, anyway.
The message painted across the house wall behind us is almost poetic in how fucked-up it is.
Am I being too subtle?
Blood drips from each letter, mixing with something tar-like that makes the whole thing look like it’s crying black tears. Still wet enough to catch the dim light.
Yeah, real fucking subtle.
A family lived here. Shifter-blooded. Stygian born. Now they’re scattered across their own doorway, throats opened wide, eyes vacant and glassy.
Then I feel it.
The bond slams into me like a punch to the ribs, flooding me with her terror in waves that make my jaw clench. She’s here. Close. Too damn close to all this carnage.
I spin, scanning the tree line, and there—
Haide.
On her knees at the edge of the clearing, hands pressed into the moss, blood streaked across her throat, her arms, soaking through her clothes. Her eyes are feral—more animal than girl—chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.
“Fuck,” I mutter, already moving.
My chest detonates. The bond screams mine so violently it feels like my ribs are splitting apart. Like something feral is clawing its way out of my skin to get to her, to bite, protect.
My vision tunnels, heat flooding my veins, instincts crashing over reason in a brutal, blind demand to destroy first and think later.
She’s hurt. She’s bleeding. You fucking failed her.
“What happened? Who did this?” Panic closes around my throat, but as I reach out to her, the scent hits me and it’s wrong.
Not her blood.
I blink, and just like that, the haze clears. “I thought…”
For a moment, her features seem to soften before she forces a frown.
Creed appears beside me a second later, his expression going hard at her presence.
Knight straightens from where he’s crouched. “What the hell—”
“I don’t—” Her voice cracks, raw and wrecked. She stares at her hands, at the blood coating them, trembling. “I was in my room reading over what Professor Astra said today about—” Her lips clamp shut, and her eyes slide to me. “Never mind. It’s not important. I was reading and then I was here.”
“Wow. She knows how to read.” Sinner smirks.
I make a mental note to figure out what professor Astra is teaching her, because it must be good if she’s being tight-lipped—my girl loves to speak her mind.
I move closer, and the bond hums between us, confirming what I already know in my bones. She’s telling the truth. I can feel it, absolute.