Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“I know I have. And I’m going now.”
“The fuck you are. We’re not done, you and me. You got shit you need to account for from tonight.”
“I know that, too. But here’s not the place, is it.”
Nate glanced at Nalla and thought about what she’d looked like in the club, a breath of fresh air among all those made-up attention seekers. Now she was shell-shocked, bloodied… yet just as beautiful in a raw, brutal way, her yellow eyes luminous from unshed tears.
He felt like he needed to say something to her. But in the end, he lost his voice so he just gave her a nod, and turned away from them both.
Dematerializing would be a great idea, but that was not going to happen. Shoving his fists into his jacket, he trained his senses on what was ahead of him and got to walking—
“Nate!”
He glanced over his shoulder. Nalla ran up to him, then reached out to touch his mouth. When she drew her hand back, her fingertips were red with his blood.
“Nalla,” her sire barked.
She looked back at the Brother, and spoke the one word that was guaranteed to make the night worse: “No.”
“Fuck,” Nate breathed.
Zsadist narrowed his eyes. “You are going to find out that sooner or later, what you choose becomes what you pay for. But you’re right, Nalla. I’m not in charge of your life anymore. You’re going to have to learn that lesson on your own. And, Nate, now’s your one chance to do the right thing with me. I hope like hell you mean what you said.”
On that note, the Brother dematerialized, up-and-outing from the alley.
With a curse, Nate shook his head. “You should have left when he told you to.”
“How do I know if you’re well enough to go home on your own?”
“I’m not your problem.”
And Jesus, he was a big one. Not only was he in trouble for popping that cop-bot on Market, but he was in the cross hairs of a Brother now. Oh, and he still had a dead human in his side yard that needed a good burial—or a fire, given the ground’s frost layer.
As Nalla crossed her arms over her chest, he knew she was going nowhere fast. “Tell me what just happened.”
“Like I said, you don’t have to—”
“Worry about you? That’s only part of it. At some point, I am going to have to try for sleep and I really need some context for… this.” She looked back at the puddle of his blood. “Who are you?”
“No one special.”
“That”—she jabbed her finger at the place he’d “died”—“is not normal.”
“It’s not me.”
She gave him a don’t-be-an-idiot look. “So who the hell am I talking to right now.”
All he could do was shake his head again. Shuli knew about his “situation,” and so did his parents and the Brothers, but other than that, he kept things quiet. The shit was hard enough to live with, impossible to explain, and he wasn’t interested in helping other people understand what he didn’t want to talk about in the first place.
“It doesn’t matter.” He glanced out to the street. “But your father’s right. I’m not worth blowing your life up for, and anyway, you shouldn’t be angry at him for keeping you safe—from lessers or anyone else. That’s love and you’re lucky he cares.”
There was a stretch of silence, and for a brief moment he felt the quiet satisfaction that comes with doing the right thing. Not an emotion he’d had for a very long time.
Then again, he hadn’t done a right thing for the right reason in—
“Oh, my God, will you spare me the benevolent rescuer act.”
Nate snapped to attention, all record-screech. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You know, you and my father should get along better. You’ve both got the same attitude.” She motioned back and forth between them. “Couple of fence lines for you and me going forward. One, I’m not blowing up my life over anybody, and that includes you. I don’t even know you. And two, as difficult as it may be, try to resist commenting on stuff you don’t know anything about. It might make you feel superior to stand on a mountain, but the truth is, there’s no victory in being patronizing. Especially when your intended target”—she pointed to herself—“doesn’t care about your opinion.”
Nate felt his brows pop up. Then he glanced at one of the two ash spots on the asphalt, where she’d sent a slayer for a little metaphysical ride back to Lash.
“But I am sorry I missed.”
He met her eyes again. “I’m sorry, what?”
“When the lesser—shot you. I… missed. When I tried to kick the gun out of his hand.”
Nate had an absurd impulse to step forward and wrap his arms around her. Instead, he could only shrug. “Weapons can’t hurt me.”
“I didn’t know that at the time.”