Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
I blinked at her, the journey into lucidity jarring. “I’m not looking for a Prince Charming or a ‘love at first sight’ deal, Faith. You know that’s not me.” I tried to smile and wink at the woman I loved more than anyone on the planet, the one who was little more than a skeleton in front of me.
In a very deliberate and devastatingly slow move, Faith moved her gray and bruised hand to cover mine. With a surprising amount of strength, she squeezed it, her eyes glittering. “I’m not talking about a Prince Charming,” she rasped. “I’m talking about Rebecca. About you finding her truth and seeing how utterly beautiful and unique her truth is.” She paused, sucking in a labored breath. “But Prince Charming? I doubt he could handle you. Nor would he deserve you. You’ll get someone much better than him. And you’ll get him.”
The certainty in her voice unnerved me. Had me wondering whether the fact she was flirting with death gave her some glimpse into the future.
“Faith,” I whispered. But I couldn’t say more because the grip on my hand loosened and that lucid gaze disappeared.
It was the last time I saw myself through her eyes, got a glimpse of my truth before I buried it in dirt and darkness.
I swallowed the chunk of coal at my throat as grief crept through the itchiness of my mind.
“I’ll get right on that,” she said with a small grin.
A grin!
I was so going to mouth-kiss that biker for making it possible for my best bud to smile again.
I’d also totally disembowel him if he took that smile away.
My own plucky smile left the moment Lily closed the door, my relaxed demeanor changing immediately as I darted off the sofa into my room. My shaking hands unveiled the expertly hidden package, and I wasted no time in finding my escape. My way to be clean. It didn’t escape me that my pursuit of washing off the filth gave me even more grime in the long run. Dirtied my soul. Like I said, future isn’t really my game. I live in the now.
And in the now, flying on the cushion that circled around me the moment I injected myself, I was clean. I was nothing.
An unperceivable amount of time later, a knocking jerked me out of my reverie. I was already coming out anyway. This stuff was shit. The high didn’t last enough, but I couldn’t afford any better.
Jesus, I wasn’t even good enough for the ‘good’ drugs.
Tragic.
I slowly pushed my jellylike limbs to the floor, my movements lethargic.
The knocking at the door turned to pounding. I stumbled into the living room, rolling my eyes.
“Okay, okay, jeez. Keep your motorcycle panties on,” I muttered as I reached the door. I was assuming it was Lily’s biker man, there to throw around some alpha over the fact his woman did something that he could do for her. Like breathing and such.
I didn’t expect to be shoved savagely aside by a huge angry form entering the room, slamming the door. Asher may have given a new meaning to the term ‘caveman’ but he would never be so brutal, even with someone like me. None of the men in his club would. I had come to understand that, although they were rough bikers who could be scary as fuck, their attitude towards women, even junkie strippers, was respectful.
Despite this current situation, my mind wandered to the man who’d been visiting the club for the last few weeks. The one who didn’t seem to go away, despite seeing what I was. Not all of it, no one would ever see that, but it should have been enough to scare him away.
“What’s this I hear about you givin’ Carlos shit?” an angry voice hissed.
I moved my gaze lazily up past the muscled chest and to the contorted face of my kind-of-boyfriend. Kind of because I didn’t ‘do’ boyfriends, and he was a dick. I hadn’t seen him in a couple weeks, and I hadn’t missed him. “Hello to you to, Dylan,” I replied smartly.
His hands tightened on my forearms to the point of dull pain. Had I been stone-cold sober, I reasoned that pain might’ve edged on unbearable. However, I was still high, so it had a numbing quality, an unimportance.
His eyebrows narrowed and his eyes turned to slits. “Don’t give me your mouthy shit. You’ve done enough of that,” he clipped.
I regarded him, not feeling much fear at the fury in his tone, his lack of hesitation at getting physical. He was not cute when his face was scrunched up in fury. Another part of me, a shameful part, felt kind of turned on with this fury, this lack of respect I was getting.
Fucked-up, I knew. That was me. Fucked-up to the core.
I reached out to his grip on my forearms, gently stroking the white knuckles.