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)
The council wants us dead. Gone.
They want Rathe for their own, and as I look at my brothers, knowing my sister is helping the enemy, that she is the enemy as well, I fear that's exactly what they’ll get.
Fire burns all around me, engulfing the streets and closing me in a ball of black smoke. At first, I wonder if it’s our watchers, if the smoke is that of our ancestors who've come to protect us, but when the thick cloud creeps closer, stealing my senses, I know I’m wrong.
But I am Gifted, a Royal. Deveraux blood courses through my veins.
Fire cannot kill me, and smoke cannot trap me, so I push forward, stepping through the flames. Power stirs in my chest, circling and growling, but as it reaches for the surface, it’s yanked by its chain.
A chain that can't be cut.
A lock that can’t be broken.
Only one person holds the key to set me free, and I drove her to her death.
I killed her.
“You tried.”
My muscles freeze, the flames around me roaring and raging, but the smoke has lifted higher into the air, allowing me to see through the licks of red and blue.
White is what I find.
A sheet of it.
Long and sleek and blowing and then black eyes meet mine.
My heart leaps, jumping to life as if hit with a lightning bolt.
I try to run to her, but that only pushes her further away.
Like I did.
That was all I did was drive her backward, so I stop where I stand to see what she does when given the choice. Will she run and never look back?
London smirks, the flames flickering across her face, the veins in her neck pulsing as the blackness appears, zipping down her limbs like twisted twine and broken webs.
She's magnificent … and she’s headed right for me.
She steps closer and the flames bow to her, softening to nothing but a low flicker kissing at her feet.
The bond tugs from the shadows of my soul, literally dying with need for her, and my foot moves forward before I realize I’m moving.
The fire hisses, seeking retribution for my action and melts the flesh around my knuckles until they’re but bare bones. It swirls around her, guarding her and sends her hair blowing, wrapping it along her lips.
She smiles around it and it’s like a sword to the spine.
Soul fucking altering.
“Baby?”
I gasp, head whipping from right to left as I sharpen my vision.
The doors have been flung open and you can feel the power flickering in the air.
They’re making a show of it, will likely broadcast it to the people of Rathe in warning or latch lies to us to destroy our name.
“They're coming for us.” Creed’s voice is hollow but strong. “If you get an opening, take it. No matter what.”
No matter if it's Temperance, he says without actually saying it.
“And if there is no opening?” If they thought this through and this is fucking it. The end of an era. The death to our line.
The fall of the Dark Crown.
Creed nods, looking at each of us, his eyes settling on me. “Then we'll see each other in the next life.”
We turn to one another, words we don’t need to speak aloud passing through us.
At least we’ll die together.
We wait.
A head rolls in first, and then the soft thump of boots carries down the hall.
My heart fucking jumps when London strolls through, bloody dagger hanging in one hand, and dragging a body with the other.
She drops the leg of the guard and he instantly kicks at her.
His eyes turn white, and I open my mouth to warn her, but before the color reaches his pupils a dagger flies through the air from down the dark hall, slicing right into his throat.
“Thanks,” she calls over her shoulder and a female voice answers, “They in there?!”
Legend yanks in his chains, a deep rumble stirring in his chest.
Creed and Sinner go on high alert.
But I can only stare at the girl before me. Her eyes find mine and hold and it’s just like in my nightmare—she's exactly how I saw her.
Frosty hair and big black eyes, veins threaded down across her like ashen tattoos to the skin.
She’s fucking beautiful, but she’s no beauty.
My girl, my mate... she’s the worst of them all.
“My little demon.”
Her eyes flare at my rasped words and the bond sparks in my chest.
“I should end you myself.” She creeps closer, and she doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of me.
My eyes trace every inch of her face, and my cold skin warms. “But...”
“But a Queen could never kill her King.” Her tone is soft yet strong.
I tug at the chains, needing to wrap my arms around her, but all it does is send a shock through my system.
London’s limbs shake with anger at the sound, her eyes flying up to the powerful restraints.