Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Tempest tilted her head. “Think you can handle my version of bed sport?”
“Think you can use a phrase that isn’t from the 1800s?”
“Rutting?”
I grimaced. “Please no.”
“Then I’m sticking with ‘sporting.’ Something very…”
“Sporting about it?”
“Exactly.”
“Do we get trophies?”
“Something tells me you want one.” She actually laughed. It stunned me stupid for a few seconds. It was low, seductive, it felt like long, sweaty, hot sex, her laugh.
“I wouldn’t say no to a medal. Or at least a ribbon.” I shrugged. “‘Good job, Louis. You really drove it home in the fourth quarter.’”
“Or the last inning,” she added.
I smirked. “Yeah, I like yours better.”
She stepped closer then, closing the space between us with purpose. One hand slid to the back of my neck, the other pressed against my chest. She kissed me—fierce, consuming, like a dare and a warning wrapped into one.
I didn’t hesitate. I pulled her against me, walking her backward through the house, toward the bedroom neither of us had acknowledged until now.
We hit the edge of the mattress. She fell first, dragging me with her.
I hovered above her, heart pounding, breath shallow. “Looks like I get a medal after all.”
Tempest’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “If you can make me forget this isn’t real for five seconds…” Her fingers curled into the collar of my shirt, my skin burned every inch she touched. “Then you can have me.”
"Sadly,” I pulled back, my restraint nearly gone, “I’m not in the business of miracles and you don’t seem like the type who wants to forget. Come at me when you want to remember.”
She frowned. “Remember?”
“Why you picked me in the first place.”
“Convenience,” she spat almost hysterically. “And the fact that your life doesn’t mean shit, not to you, not to me, so why not feel alive again?”
I tilted my head and locked eyes with her then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll remember that.”
“What?”
“The way your voice changes when you lie.” I walked away before it was no longer a possibility—the temptation—and went to the bathroom door. “I’m going to shower, feel free to sleep in here with me or find another room. Either way that’s all that’s happening, and it’s easier to protect you if you’re by my side.”
"Touch me without permission and die.”
“Touch me at all and suffer the naked consequences,” I fired back. “Night, Tempest.”
No rebuttal.
Phone in hand, I checked the last message I’d received. It was from an unknown number as it should be.
I’d played my part.
I just hoped at the end of the day I’d have something to show for it. I stared down at the screen of my phone and typed out. “Point me.”
"I was just trying to make things interesting,” the text fired back.
"You’re just bored, give up now.”
"Never,” came the next text. “You started this and forced me to get involved. We all have something we want. You just didn’t get what it was the first time around. This time, you’ll get second best.”
I rolled my eyes and called the number.
He answered right away. “Giving up already?”
"Changing the rules.”
"Nah, no changing, we agreed. Plus, this is already fun. I mean you want someone who will be loyal, right? Someone who would do anything for you and never betray you? Let’s watch it roll out in real time. Let me choose the bride, you agreed, I agreed, shit happened.”
"So eloquent.”
“You’re just grumpy because you didn’t get laid.”
He wasn’t wrong. “Why are we friends again?”
"You don’t know me, remember?” He snickered. “We’re relative strangers, and you’ll need to play the role well when I see you later.”
“Right.” I was already exhausted, and we’d barely started. The fact that he told me about the game before it even started was strange. Then again he’d always been strange, and he was probably afraid I’d turn her down flat.
“Have a good night, Louis.”
“You too, Cassian,” I murmured.
His dark chuckle was all that filled my ear as he whispered, “May the odds ever be in your favor. Drink up, puppet.”
“Go to hell.”
5
TEMPEST
Hell is other people. –John Paul Sartre
Imiscalculated.
I would die before admitting it, but the math was wrong, completely off if you asked me. He was supposed to be weak. This was supposed to be a way to keep my family safe, get me out of trouble, and also far away from the families’ watchful eyes and stupid tendencies to marry us off into other bloodlines.
Okay, my dad would never unless he was desperate.
And yet, it kept happening with every cousin.
Maybe we were sadists.
Maybe we liked the suffering of losing control with each other and watching ourselves bleed together. There was something sickeningly comforting about someone understanding your pain on a basic level that made existing next to them almost spiritual.
It’s also why I loved dating apps and stayed far away from any sort of hook up with any of the made men, bodyguards, and or cousins a billion times removed.