Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
A slow grin spreads over my face, and I step closer until my legs bump into her knees. “You seem to hand out high marks in a lot of categories for me.”
She grips a handful of my T-shirt and yanks me closer. “That’s because you’re talented in so many areas.” Her lips meet mine in a soft kiss.
For a few seconds, the kitchen’s quiet except for the low hum of my ancient fridge and the slow slide of our lips.
Her stomach growls and she backs away, an embarrassed laugh spilling from her lips. “Sorry.”
I place one last lingering kiss on her cheek, inhaling her cinnamon scent. “Let me start breakfast.”
“Okay.”
I crack several eggs into a bowl, stealing quick glances at her the whole time. “How’d you sleep?”
“Like the dead.” She winces without looking up from her phone. “Which probably isn’t reassuring.”
A corner of my mouth lifts.
I whisk the eggs. “Plans for today?”
“More library time.” She hesitates, a slight frown wrinkling her brow. “Although—no offense to Crowsbridge Hollow and the lovely Mr. Baxter—I’m starting to think I should visit a larger library for some outside research.”
Dread coils in my stomach. I should encourage her to leave, explore elsewhere. But my throat closes tight even as I consider how to line up the words. “Like what?”
“More…I don’t know. Esoteric?”
“Why?”
She slides off the stool and approaches me, setting her coffee on the counter, then hugging me from behind. Careful not to dislodge her arms, I pour the eggs into the pan.
“I…” She squeezes me tighter.
Not liking the hesitation in her voice, I slowly turn to face her. “What?”
She releases me and steps back. Worry pulls her lips into a wobbly line. “Nothing.”
I grip her hips and lift her onto the counter. “Tell me.”
“I’d rather kiss you.” She swoops in, crashing her lips into mine.
A groan of approval slips out of me. Without breaking the kiss, I lean over and flip the burner off. Eggs can wait. Kissing Emery can’t.
Emery gasps. Her whole body shuddering.
“Em?” I pull back.
Her eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted.
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyelids fly open and she stares at me, confusion morphing into embarrassment or fear, I can’t tell. She presses her hand over her heart. “I…wow. That hasn’t happened—”
“What hasn’t happened?”
She rests her hand on my chest and glances down, her expression turning sheepish. “I should’ve told you this before. Sometimes…when we’re in the middle…no, when I’m about to…come, I see…things.” Her eyebrows pinch together and she stares at her arm. Although the mark hasn’t gone past her shoulder, the green is bright and shimmery this morning.
Dread takes up residence in my gut. “What things?”
“I don’t know.” She folds her hands together in her lap as if this is a thoughtful, academic discussion. “Visions? I guess that’s what I’d call them.”
“Visions of what?” I stare at her mouth, willing different words to come out.
“I don’t know. They’re only fragments. A cemetery, I think. A woman’s tears.” She tugs at the key pendant around her neck. “An iron key. Water. A door closing. That one is really vivid.” She lifts her shoulders slightly. “Sorry, it’s not much more than that.”
My breath snags in my throat. What she’s describing doesn’t line up. Why she’s seeing it is even more unnerving. Is the Rider coming for her, or was she marked for a different reason? And if so, what?
This is a stupid question—one I already know the answer to—but I ask anyway. “And you’ve never had visions before?”
She snorts, then shakes her head. “No, Declan.”
“But it just happened now? When we kissed?”
She nods quickly.
“What’d you see this time?”
“A montage of images but the clearest was a black horse galloping through fog.”
“And? Was someone riding the horse?” I clear my throat. “Or some thing?”
She frowns and squeezes her eyes shut as if she’s trying to replay the scene in her mind. “I don’t think so? It had a black, glossy coat and seemed very…strong. Sorry, I don’t know a lot about horses.”
Horses or her lack of knowledge about them isn’t the problem. “That’s okay.” But it’s not okay. None of what she’s sharing is okay.
“I’ve never heard of that happening before.”
She tilts her head in a way that suggests she doesn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. “How many victims of the curse have you actually spoken to? And is that kind of detail something they would’ve shared with you?” she asks gently.
The last person taken by the Rider was my sister, so no, that’s not something she would’ve told her little brother.
My jaw locks. I run through everything I’ve ever been told. Everything I assumed. The oath. The rules. The warnings. Things I never questioned because no one in my family bothered to fill in the details before it was too late.
She reaches for the pendant at her throat, twisting the iron between her fingers. “I’m still wearing this every day.”