Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Jareth snickered. “Found a Jeep at the top of the ridge. Documents inside were addressed to a Gemma Ashford.”
“You went rifling through her stuff?”
“Hey.” He held up a hand with mock hurt. “It was an abandoned vehicle. I needed somewhere to sleep. No keys, though.”
I smiled icily. “I know. I threw them over the cliff in a storm. They’ll be buried beneath dirt by now.”
“And you did that why?”
If Jareth was any other man, I wouldn’t answer. But...we had history. If anyone would understand, it was him. He’d understand, possibly even more so than any of our family. “She was trying to leave me.”
He paused, his bi-colored eyes darting over mine. “So...let me figure this out. She found you. You kept her. You used her. Then she tried to run?” His face suddenly broke into a savage smile. “So, you did get retribution. You tasted power instead of helplessness.”
“I’m not proud of it.”
“Why the fuck not? Bet it helped, right?” He leaned forward, his voice dropping with black secrets. “Once I tasted that sort of power...” He rolled his eyes, whistling under his breath even as a cut reopened on his bottom lip. “It gave me the strength to change everything.”
I stilled. “What happened to you, Jareth?”
He shut down, his face going blank and cold.
If I was relearning I had a heart, then Jareth had eaten his for breakfast. In that, we were different. I guessed we’d always been different, ever since the day he’d returned from two weeks of punishment when he was a teen.
I’d feared something had switched in him, and it appeared it hadn’t switched back.
I glanced at the doorway where Gem had vanished to. As much as I was grateful that Jareth was alive and he’d made the effort to return, I wasn’t comfortable with him in the house with her.
Not now.
Standing, I cursed the room as it rolled beneath my feet. “It’s late. We better get some rest.”
Jareth stood too, hissing beneath his breath at whatever wounds I’d given him. “Let me ask you a question, brother.” He stepped toward me, menacing but also curious. “Has this place healed you or fucked you up even further? Staying on your own? Letting the past eat you alive?” He looked me up and down. “I came back here fully believing I’d find a ramshackle mansion full of raccoons, yet I found a half-dead creature instead. I thought you were smarter than this. If any of us was gonna make it, it was you.”
I stepped into him, bristling with anger. “Don’t presume shit you can’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand. I see more than you think.”
“In that case, you should watch what you say to me.”
“And you should grow a set of balls and get the fuck away from this place.”
“Don’t test me, Jareth.”
“Or what? I might finally knock some sense into you?”
My chest bumped his. A fight built between us again. I didn’t know where it’d come from or why I had the sudden urge to knock him unconscious, but I couldn’t deny his company forced me to face so many fucking things.
I no longer had the urge to protect him.
I had the urge to protect Gemma.
To protect what she’d given me.
The memories Jareth had awakened wouldn’t leave me alone. Ghosts licked around every table and chair. Horrors dripped down the walls. I wanted it all gone. I was ready to be done with this. I was finally at a pinnacle where making a choice between the family I’d failed and a woman I desperately wanted to deserve was no longer impossible.
Thanks to Jareth, he’d made that choice for me.
Gemma.
I choose Gem.
“Go on then,” Jareth hissed. “Hit me. I know you want to.”
His violence tripped mine, tangling us together. And somehow, instead of pushing me over the edge, it pulled me back. It helped me gulp a breath and shove aside rage that had nothing to do with this man. “I don’t want to hit you, brother.” I dropped my voice to a breath. “That was a mistake I won’t repeat.”
“A mistake that might’ve helped remind you of who you truly are.”
“And who am I?”
His gaze softened just a little. “You’re our guardian. A legend. A kid who should’ve died with the amount of abuse you suffered, yet you just took it all anyway. You took it for us, and even now, you’re still putting us first.” His hand reached out and touched mine. “Try putting yourself first for once. Not her. Not me. Not them. Stop fucking yourself over by staying here. This place is sick. It’s making you sick.”
His touch sent agony through my blood. His voice crippled my broken mind.
I needed to leave.
Gemma entered the room just as I took a step back.
She froze, watching us, sensing the animosity and honesty bristling in the air. In her hands balanced three bowls of packet pasta—the last rations from her backpack. A box of painkillers fell from beneath her arm as she looked between us, trying to figure out if she should run, grab a weapon, or leave us be.