Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“What the fuck…”
The warm air turned as crows squawked ahead. My heart jumped as my legs turned to Jell-O, and I crumpled to the ground. The bright day was suddenly bleak and dry, and a tapping sound rang out from behind. It was almost like a beating heart. Thud, thud, thud. It got louder and panic dripped down the base of my spine. I needed to run! Someone was going to kill me! My body started fuzzing beneath my skin, and I twisted and turned. This was a dream—this had to be a dream.
I shot up from the sand, eyes squeezed closed. I could feel whoever it was. Its presence was as loud as the sound—but then it all stopped. The sky was an array of vibrant colors, and when I shaded my eyes to look closer, I could see the moon directly above.
“This isn’t real. It’s a dream.”
My stomach felt thick with acid, and my head heavy, as though someone was weighing it down or shoving something in…I felt…tired. But I was already asleep…so tired…was I dying?
I shoot up from my bed, clutching my sheets and reaching for the bedside lamp. Fuck. I grasp air when my hand fails to meet the bedside table. Everything is here. Rolling onto my back, I slam into another body and scream, flying off the bed and backing up until I hit the wall.
“Fuck. That’s not the kind of scream girls usually do when they’re in my bed, Poppet.”
I hit the switch and see Malyk squinting his eyes. He’s shirtless. He’s fucking shirtless…oh my God.
“What the hell am I doing in here?” I ask, my panic subsiding. “I thought you were a fucking creep!”
When he doesn’t answer me right away, I look down at him. His eyes darken, and the corner of his mouth curves up in a half-smile. He really is beautiful. I can’t figure out if he uses his darkness to hide, or to distract. “Well…I mean…”
“Not funny!” I patter my way back to the bed, swiping my phone off the charger that’s on a small table near a corner window. “It’s three a.m.”
“Yeah.” Malyk pinches the corner of his eyes. “So can we do this tomorrow?”
I lean my hip on his dresser, ignoring the décor. Right now, I am one, tired, and two, creeped out by my dream. “How’d I end up in your bed, Malyk?” I raise one brow but can’t help doing it with a smile on my face.
His eyes glass over, his mouth twitching. I stiffen, wondering what I may have said to warrant the sudden shift in demeanor. Only when I open my mouth to ask him again does he shake his head and flash me his trademark grin.
“I don’t remember either, Poppet. But how about you get back in?”
I know there are questions that I need to ask all three of them. That their friendship, or bond, or whatever, is more than peculiar. I need to just last until Monday. Then, I won’t need them like I do right now, especially Sparrow. I have two options right now. I can dip out and crawl back to my bed, ignoring the voice that’s inside my head, or I can listen to said voice.
I grab the sheet and slide back beneath the warm covers, staring up at the ceiling ahead. “Tell me a story.”
Silence spills out between us, and I shuffle to the side to find him studying me closely. Malyk is probably one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen, but I can’t rank any of them better than the other because I simply could never choose. Where one lacks, another makes up for it and so on. It’s kind of like a Ferris wheel, one that I can’t decide whether I want to get off or go another round. His deep-set eyes accentuate his high cheekbones, and his skin has the kind of natural tan that you want to sink your teeth into. No tattoos from what I can see, but—my eyes drop to his nipples. Both of those pierced. Malyk would be considered clean-cut if the sword that did the cutting was one that was meant for war. He never hides the filth in his mind either, merely wears it on his chest like a badge of honor. I think those kinds of people are who are most terrifying because they’re not here to make friends.
They’re here to remind you to keep yours close.
“What is it?”
He shuffles down from the headboard, spreading his arms wide. “If I’m telling a story, you’re definitely snuggling.”
I blink up at him, at this confusing yet terrifying monster that lurks behind a cool disposition and bad jokes. “You snuggle?”
“Ah, yeah, how the fuck else do you think I get to sleep every night?”
I peek over his body to make sure I’m not deluded. “There’s no one else here.”