Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 114936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Keaton points to me, picking up my shirt and tossing it at my chest. “You’re lucky I don’t hook you up to that suspension and leave you there for the rest of the trip.” He pauses and I squeeze my head out of the hole of my shirt. “Trust me, Cartier, I’m still seriously considering it.”
I shove my hands through my shirt. “Making me leave the bondage on for the rest of the trip is torture enough, thanks.” Snatching my jeans up from the floor, I shove my legs into each side and do the buttons up quickly.
He steps forward, his hand on my chin. I close my eyes. Having him near me has become a necessity, and I’m painfully aware of how volatile that is. Loving Keaton isn’t supposed to be easy, but it is supposed to be mine to do.
“I’m sorry, baby.” I rest further into his embrace, my heart pounding against my chest. I think my relief of finally finding out everything outweighs my need to be more upset with him. There’s a kind of calm that has subdued my panic. All the chaos we’ve both endured over the years will be finally turned into gas to help us reign. Help me reign.
“For which part?” I bat my lashes up at him but can’t help the playful smirk on my lips. “The you making me think you’re in love with some bitch, or for one of the other one hundred reasons you should be sorry?” His eyes fall to my mouth, mirroring my same grin.
“You thought I was in love with her?” His dark brow curves upward, hitting his hairline.
“Well… yes?”
He shakes his head, pulling me under his arm. “There’s only one girl walking this earth who can say that about me.” His lips brush my temple. “Any more secrets that I’ll find out through anyone else?”
I open my eyes to his. “No.”
He kisses my forehead and takes my hand in his. “Good. Then you don’t need to worry being my next tattoo.”
I laugh nervously, but he doesn’t put my mind at ease by saying he’s joking.
“You’re joking, right?” I squeeze his hand with mine. He pushes open the door and leaves me to walk through first, staring me down as I pass him. “Right?”
Past
It was possible to crave things without realizing it. I liked the taste of something you shouldn’t have. How it felt to drink from the cup of the forbidden. Cartier had always been that to me, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she was my best friend’s sister.
“Keaton!” my mom yelled from downstairs. I continued to flick the blade around my fingers, watching as blood trickled down the stainless sharp lines. “No. Please. Don’t.” His body shuffled across the gravel road, kicking up dust and rocks to float around the high beams of my car lights. “Who are you? What do you want?” His hand covered his eyes and I tilted my head, studying his fight-or-flight. He didn’t have much of either inside of him. “Please don’t kill me. I have done bad things, but I paid for them! I did my time!” He went to shoot up from the ground and break through the clearing of the paddock.
One.
Two.
Three.
He didn’t run very fast. I flicked my knife around my fingers and reared my arm back, aiming it straight for his head. His body fell to the grass with a thud.
There’s a knock on my door and I turned to face it, to see my mom standing at the threshold, leaning on the edge with a knowing look on her face. “You’re home late.” Kiznitch mothers. They’re all fucked up one way or another, but one thing they all had in common was how much they loved their children. At least, that’s what Ash always said.
“I didn’t know I had a curfew.” I moved my eyes from the blade up to her face.
Ash tilted her head to the side before coming farther into my room. She sat on the mattress and wrapped her hand around mine, taking the blade from me. “How many this week?” I watched as her sharp side profile moved when she swallowed. As if it pained her to ask. I knew it did, because out of everyone in Kiznitch, Ash had the most humanity. God was punishing her by giving her me as a son. She had humanity, and I took it.
“Not enough,” I answered hoarsely, standing and pulling my shirt over my head from the back of the collar.
She dropped the blade onto the bed, wiping her hands on her pants. “Well, make sure you’re ready for the tour. I think you all leave tomorrow.” When she stood, she leaned up on her tippy toes and brought her lips to my cheek. “I love you. I’m sorry I’m not more involved in Kiznitch than you probably would have liked, but you know, I—”