Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Whatever life there’s left in me.
I hold myself in place with my legs and crack open a window. It slides quietly and I slip inside without making too much noise. I land on a pink rug, crouching in the blackness, listening for any sound. But there’s nothing: the room looks like it was a little girl’s at some point, but now there’s a desk and one of those fancy stationary bikes.
I take a moment to get my bearings. The hallway is pitch black and there’s no noise from any of the other rooms. A few of the doors are open, showing empty space, eerily dead and silent. What was this place like when the kids were all younger? Chaotic, most likely. God, imagine trying to sneak around this place back then. It must’ve been a nightmare.
I find the door I’m looking for and let myself inside.
It’s another bedroom. This one is less girly though. The walls are light blue and the vanity is a mess of makeup and skincare products. A dresser sits against one wall with all the drawers open. I ghost over and brush my fingers over black workout gear, dark red silk panties, and a bunch of white t-shirts. A bed dominates most of the space, the covers rumpled, a figure lying in the very center, barely more than a lump and some hair.
Gold glitters in the darkness. It catches my eye as I drift nearer. The lighter is left in a small dish on an end table beside a charging phone. I stare at it, heart pattering, and I know this is stupid. I shouldn’t be here. Only I can’t stop thinking about her, not since I caught her tits-out in that study. I knew the second she let out that sigh of satisfaction when she snapped on the fan that she was going to be trouble, and now here I am, being a fucking idiot and taking a massive risk for no upside.
Why this girl? Why can’t I walk away? If I tried, they’d come for me. After what the Sarkissians did to save my life, I owe them too damn much to disappear. But I’m also broken and worthless, disgraced in ways I’m still figuring out, so why marry me off to her?
And why curse her with me?
So many fucking questions, but I feel that old familiar itch. It’s a nagging voice goading me, an impulse I’ve never been able to control. With my teeth clenched, I take the lighter I stole and place it gently on top of her matching version. I scan the dresser for something—
And pluck an old night time mouthguard from a little plastic case.
Ah, it’s perfect. I grip it in my fist and step back from the bed.
It wouldn’t be hard to wake her. I move around, trying to get a better view of her face, but she stirs. I could sit on the edge and lightly shake her, cover her mouth, tell her I’ve come here to have another taste before she’s officially my wife. But is that what I’m doing? Trying to kiss her? Trying to touch her?
Creepy fucking way to come on to my fiancée.
I back off toward the door. This was reckless and dangerous. I’ve always been good about controlling myself—in everything but this. Breaking into places I shouldn’t be, exploring rooms I’m not meant to explore, finding out secrets everyone wishes would stay locked away. It’s all I’ve ever been good at.
I get the hell out of there before I do something truly stupid. Back down the hall, through the old girl’s room, and out the window. I slide it shut behind me and descend the drain pipe. I land on the sidewalk, crouch and listen to make sure nobody’s sounding an alarm, before casually walking around the side of the building and toward the main road.
“Excuse me? Brenden McGrath?”
I flinch sideways, hand going to the small gun I have in a holster at my hip, but freeze with my fingers on the grip. A young man stands near the house, dark hair and eyes, a friendly smile on his face. His skin is olive-toned, like Talin’s, and they have the same eyebrows. The familial resemblance is obvious.
“Don’t know who that is.” I’m not sure why I bother lying. I’m going to marry his fucking sister soon.
I tug up my hood and start walking.
The young man catches up. “I just wanted to ask what you took from her room, that’s all. Honestly, I don’t care that you broke in. The drainpipe was a really good idea, and it would’ve worked, except I set a pressure sensor on it a couple years ago, really subtle stuff, don’t feel bad. I doubt there are five people in the whole city who could’ve got up that thing either way. You’re as impressive as I hoped.”