Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Baby, no...
I drag my hands through my hair, tugging and tearing and spinning. My glassy eyes meet my brother’s. “Creed.”
His face falls, eyes dropping to his feet.
“Creed, no. It has to be something else!” I shout, but I know my words are pointless.
Because I know.
I know because that part of her, the tether that linked me to my mate, my fucking girl to me, it’s torn. Severed at the very base.
The bond I fought against, the calm I craved, the fucking home she created within me, the purpose she gave me without even fucking knowing it... all gone.
“I can’t fucking feel her.”
“What do you mean?” Legend pushes forward. “What do you mean, Knight!”
Sinner steps up, shoulders tight, expression tense as he works his way into my mind. “She’s … gone.”
Gone.
The bond is gone.
My soul is torn.
My heart empty.
Mother comes around the corner then, eyes wide with panic when she spots me on the floor.
But then something strange happens. She freezes, takes me in from head to toe, her expression smoothing out as she comes to the conclusion all on her own. “So, she’s finally dead.”
It's not a question. It's a stated fact, one that rattles my bones and leaves me powerless. Literally.
I feel no energy coursing through me. No spark or being beneath my skin.
London. My beautiful, dark little doll… is dead.
And it’s all my fucking fault.
No sooner does the thought weave its way through me when an explosion sounds.
A fire starts at the end of the hall, the doors flying off in hundreds of small shards.
My brothers jump to their feet, power surging from their fingertips and then the room behind me is washed away by a fucking tsunami.
The water whirls this way, the fire growing and billowing from the other side, and then the skies open up.
Thunder and lightning rain down above us, zapping at my skin and jolting me.
I feel none of it.
My brothers yell.
Our mother shouts.
I close my eyes, begging the fucking monster who created me to take me in his arms and keep me there until I’m nothing but ash at his feet.
Twenty-Three
London
The moment I step through the tunnel, I hear the heavy wings of the dragon who saved me beat against the wind as he leaves me in the unknown. It makes no sense, but a sense of loss wraps around me knowing he's no longer here. I lift my chin in stubbornness and let the darkness of the cave swallow me whole.
With each step I take, a new sensation washes over me. Strange sounds echo against the damp stone walls.
There are sharps snaps then harsh screams, blood-curdling cries for help, and then total silence. Strangely, quiet falls like a weight, dragging my shoulders down until every step is a hard fight. My feet feel like a bag of stones as I force them forward, deeper into the darkness with no sign of light to come. And then the sounds begin again, only this time they're closer.
The deep growl vibrates through my mind, ricocheting from right to left, left to right, and then a sharp sting scrapes down the length of my spine. My back bows, my palm flying and pressing against my chest as my heart beats ten times faster than before. If I weren't dead, technically speaking, I would swear I was having a heart attack. The pain is that real, that ghastly. Then, once again, silence.
Fearful of what might come next, I hesitate to move, but whatever spirits lie within this cave clearly aren’t a fan.
Wind swoops in behind me and it’s either take a step or fall flat on my face, so I move my damn feet, forcing them one in front of the other, and again, everything gets worse.
The muffled screams and whispered words are no longer distant sounds.
They're beacons, echoing around me and swallowing me whole as reality comes crashing down around me.
Images flash across the walls as my entire body shakes. I take them in like watching a carousel of Polaroid images flick through a projector.
Me at Ben’s hockey game … staring at Knight and his brothers across the arena.
Me kissing Sinner thinking he was Knight at a party.
Me sitting on Legend’s lap as Sinner pretends to be Knight, his tongue fucking mine.
Me on my back, Knight naked and hovering above me.
Me running, Knight catching me and waking in Rathe.
Fighting him.
Hating him.
A bond beating to life in my chest.
Needing him.
Wanting him.
Knight’s possessive touch, his tender words whispered.
The Queen's sharp glare and the harsh revealed truth.
Knight’s hatred and disgust.
My escape.
My dorm.
Ben…bloody and breathless, lifeless at the feet of the man fate says was mine.
I fall to my knees as the dryness of my throat feels like swallowing sandpaper. The tangy taste of vomit slithers up my throat as the acid spills out of my stomach and onto the damp ground beneath me.