Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Remy nods from beside me, patting his chest, the lie only obvious to me since the metal is tucked into my coat pocket. Cash studies him for a moment and then walks to Remy’s room.
“You can sleep in my bed,” I tell Remy. “I doubt I’ll be sleeping, and the sun will be up soon anyway.”
Remy rises to his feet, his hands gesturing rapidly. I want to help you find who did this.
“No,” I growl, the rumble vibrating through me sounding more wolf than man. “Absolutely fucking not.”
Please. His dark eyes swim with pain and sorrow. It has to be the same psychopath who killed my family.
I wholeheartedly agree, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow him into this fight. “Get to bed, Remy.”
When he refuses to move, I grab hold of his bicep and haul him out of the room. He resists along the way, but I have more muscle and height on him. It’s not until we reach my bedroom that he manages to break free, his chest heaving with exertion. His dark eyes are wrath-filled windows into the fiery hell that’s consuming him. The memories from his past are like acid rain against my skin as he opens up the link in our bond, forcing me to feel his heartache as though it’s my own. I nearly collapse from the raw, gutting grief.
“Remy,” I murmur, taking a step toward him.
He shakes his head, body tensing with increasing anger.
Ignoring his moodiness, I stalk forward, the wolf inside me pacing with eagerness when I pin him between me and the dresser. My fingers bite into his chin as I forcefully tilt his head up. His breath comes out in ragged pants filled with barely controlled rage. Each time his nostrils flare, I almost expect him to shift before my very eyes.
But…it’s likely he won’t.
Him having an ability was always a hope that was selfish. I wanted him to be stronger than a mere human. I wanted him to have claws and fangs and speed to defend himself against threats. I’d wished for it for so many years that when his eighteenth birthday came and went with no change, I was shocked.
No shift.
The full moon isn’t here yet. I still hold on to that tiny kernel that he’ll end up being like us. I didn’t shift exactly on my eighteenth birthday, but the full moon after. So there’s still hope.
After the full moon, however, I’ll have to face the reality that he’s just a human. Which will mean whatever attacked him in those woods and continues to prowl around, slipping from our detection, is not a shifter because if it were, then Remy would have been infected by the bite. He’d have become what we are, a creature born of circumstance rather than bloodline. That leaves it to be a human, which is incredibly unlikely based on the state the bodies were left in, or something else entirely. Remy always referred to the beast as a monster, but when pressed, he never really could give a good description. Not that I blame him. He was a small boy, terrified beyond belief. I guess time will tell.
“Go to sleep,” I murmur, unable to tear my gaze from his perfect face. “Please.”
His throat makes an audible sound as he swallows, some of the fire leeching from his gaze. I want to praise him for his submission. Gently, I stroke my thumb over his pillowy bottom lip. He puckers his lips as though to kiss my thumb and fuck if it doesn’t send a thrill of pleasure down my spine.
“I’m going to find this motherfucker,” I vow, “and when I do, I’m going to kill him.”
He smiles, genuine and so fucking pretty. I don’t need to see his hands that are moving with his thankful response because the words are written all over his face.
It’s a promise I’m going to live up to.
Or I’ll die trying.
Remy
I wake with Cy’s scent filling my lungs and pores and every damn molecule in my body. And a damn erection. I’m stiff and aching with need, drunk on his overpowering musk that’s heaviest on his pillow. Like a fucking stalker, I bury my face against the pillowcase to suck in the intoxicating pine and sage smell while grinding against the bed.
This would feel so much better if he were the one beneath me rather than the bed.
That thought is a cold dousing spray of reality. Guilt and shame flood through me, threatening to drown me. It’s Cy, for crying out loud. My guardian. Stand-in father. Head captor in charge.
So why in the hell have I been losing my mind when it comes to him lately?
It’s like I can’t control these urges. With each passing moment, they become a craving so potent, I feel like I might starve. In the few hours of sleep I managed, my dreams were littered with filthy thoughts that I pray to fuck the others weren’t privy to.