Fate of a Faux (Lords of Rathe #2) Read Online Meagan Brandy, Amo Jones

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Forbidden, Paranormal Tags Authors: , Series: Amo Jones
Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
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Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
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No. That’s far too…. human for this kind.

A ballroom is spread out through the space, and people are dressed in their finest gowns and suits. Music is playing in the background, and there’s a large stage at the front of the room where a single crown sits. Black and lined with dark feathers, flames of fire flicker out of the spokes from behind it, burning with a relaxed sway.

My skin warms at the sight, and it's almost as if I can feel the heat of the fire from here. People ignore it, walking all around and chatting in small clusters.

How is it that no one pays it any mind?

It’s magnificent, whispering darkly in my ear, the words too low and fast to catch, maybe even spoken in the native tongue I’ve long forgotten.

It’s calling to me and—

A throat clearing has me blinking and the whispers are gone. I look around, realizing no one has spotted me yet, and take in the attire.

“What the hell?” I turn to Legend. “Was I the only person who didn’t get the memo we were playing Addams Family?!” I hiss. “I don’t even own clothes for—” I gesture to the area. “—this!”

“For what?” he asks, and his lips touch the nape of my neck.

I shiver, my eyes closing briefly. “For this!”

“Open your eyes and tell me what you see….”

I’m annoyed that he’s being Legend, but I open my eyes anyway, and my blood turns cold, the room spinning on its axis until it’s hanging upside down.

The floor that was once painted with white patterns over glossy wood, is now licked with red. The walls are black, but the edges at the top are leaking some sort of inky liquid. Knight has a red-haired girl in the grip of his hand, his nails sinking into her neck as his lips are locked on her shoulder. Her naked body is pressed against his partially naked form, and I can feel vomit rolling up the inside of my throat.

His other hand meets her nipple, and he pinches hard, before forcing her body back to face him and taking her mouth with his. He picks her up by her throat, slamming her down onto one of the rectangular tables so hard the food that’s lined over it splatters. The people around him are all having some form of sex, and the fog that swims around their feet smells like death.

Even though I hate it—I can’t help but watch. I want to die. It feels like a knife slicing me over and over again until I’m nothing but bare wounds and raw meat.

Knight spreads her legs so wide, I can see her pussy from here. Open and weeping, dripping with cum. Before I can blink, he drops to his knees in front of her and covers her with his mouth. His tongue is clearly working her into a tiss, as his jaw jerks with every stroke.

Her back arches and her hands fly out to her sides, desperate to grab on to anything to help. When her rapid breathing slows after her orgasm, she goes limp, and when Knight pries his face from between her legs, blood covers his skin and the tip of her cervix hangs from between his fangs. He bit and tore it from her body.

A scream tears out of my throat as I stumble backwards, but that scream merges with laughter, and when I try to turn and run, I’m met with a brick wall and no Legend.

Tears streak my cheeks, and I don’t give a fuck if I look crazy—that shit is fucked!

Classical music starts playing again and my panting breath levels as the ambient lighting changes from that dark musty color to a lighter shade. One that reminded me of the original ballroom scene.

More laughter sounds from behind me and then Sinner rounds my body, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

The room spins once again, now upright and utterly ... normal. Well, the Gifted version.

I grind my teeth, annoyed that this fucking asshole got me again. Before I turn, I carefully dry my eyes so no one will know, but when I shift my arm, what I’m wearing catches my eye. Black straps cross over my torso and barely cover my nipples, leaving ample cleavage and side-boob as the bottom of my gown sprays out into a waterfall of gothic lace. There’s a split on the side that goes all the way up to my hip, exposing my lack of underwear, and I touch the ends of my long, white hair to feel it straightened into a sleek board.

I hate you, Legend, but also thank you. Pervert.

Slowly, I turn, straightening my shoulders and pushing away everything that just happened moments ago.

It’s showtime, and if anyone is dying in this movie, it’s Knight. And maybe his wannabe bitches.



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