Total pages in book: 189
Estimated words: 181808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 909(@200wpm)___ 727(@250wpm)___ 606(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 909(@200wpm)___ 727(@250wpm)___ 606(@300wpm)
Two women behind the counter, making trays of food, watched them enter from behind their masks.
“Hey, Killyama.” Picking up a tray, one of the women, dressed in a tight red dress that had a gold zipper running down the length of it, skirted the counter to pass in front of them. “Forget your mask?”
“No.” Killyama reached out to pluck a grape off the tray, popping it into her mouth. “Just wanted to make sure you knew who’s kicking your ass if that zipper gets lowered around Train.” Pulling up the cowl at the bottom of her hoodie, she covered the bottom half of her face, leaving only her eyes and forehead exposed.
The other woman behind the counter laughed. “Watch it, Margarita. Killyama isn’t playing around.”
Margarita must have been irritated at being called out by the way she flounced out of the kitchen.
Easily recognizing Winter’s voice, Larissa took the opportunity to admire her costume. While the other woman was dressed completely in red, Winter was dressed in black and white. Her top was a frilly blouse that fell off her shoulders, and as Winter came around the counter, carrying the other tray, Larissa realized the bottom wasn’t a skirt but puffy pants. The hat she was wearing was flat, as well as the brim.
Taking in her appearance, along with the mask she was wearing, Larissa gave her an appreciative smile. “Zorro.”
Winter smiled back. “You’re the first one tonight to get it, unless Viper is standing next to me, Larissa.”
Larissa unconsciously raised her hand to touch her mask at Winter guessing her identity.
Winter laughed. “Don’t worry; no one else will be able to recognize you so fast. I saw you walking past my house with Killyama as I was leaving.”
After they walked out of the kitchen together, Killyama nudged her to the side, toward the bar area, as Winter was swallowed up in a crowd much larger than she had expected.
“I need a drink.”
Remaining on the other side as Killyama made herself a drink, she scanned the room to check if Moon was there, taking in the party-goers with consternation.
Killyama had saved her from humiliation. She was going to kill Moon. The Last Riders were going to have to carry him out on a stretcher, she promised herself.
A few of them were wearing costumes that were Halloween-y, like Winter and Viper’s by choosing famous masked characters, but wow, they hadn’t done homemade. Their costumes were a different caliber than what she had devised. Several, she guessed, had spent a bundle to stand out.
Any plans she had made to find out if Moon had been cheating on her flew out the window before she could ask.
He was cheating. There was no way he wasn’t. The women were gorgeous, and if they were decked out in revealing clothes like they were tonight, it would take a saint to resist them.
Moon was no saint. Hell, he didn’t have the willpower to go a night without making popcorn. No wonder he had no interest in having sex with her. He probably didn’t have the energy.
Spotting Saffron wasn’t difficult. The leggy blonde was hard to miss. Dressed as one of the women from Warlord from Hell, she looked sexy and alluring. Everything she was not.
Women belonging to the warlord were only permitted to wear certain colors, according to how often the warlord would call for them. The favorites were allowed to wear black and gold, the ones called occasionally were allowed to wear red, women who were rarely called wore green, and those who had yet to make it to the warlord’s bed wore blue. Only the favorites wore an intricately designed head chain, which circled the women’s faces, like The Lone Ranger’s mask but made of gold. From the bottom of the mask hung thin tassels, studded with black pearls.
Saffron had almost all the accessory down to the gold slippers, except for the one item that one of the favorites from Warlord from Hell was killing everyone for—a gold choker that had dangling stones. Each time the main favorite was called to the warlord’s bed, she would be gifted a precious stone the next morning, if they had pleased the warlord. So far, the main favorite on the show had been given a ruby, an emerald, and a sapphire. The favorite wanted a diamond and was literally killing the others to reach her goal—to become the warlord’s woman.
“Here you go.”
Dragging her gaze away from Saffron, she saw Killyama had placed a tall glass within her reach. “I can’t.”
Killyama raised another glass that looked like the one she had given her. “Bitch, you aren’t the only one with a hungry mouth to feed. It’s ginger ale.”
Taking a sip of her soda, she continued looking around, her confidence evaporating at watching the provocative women throughout the room. Returning her gaze back to Killyama, she found herself being observed.