Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Oh no you don’t,” I say to them. “No goddamn way I’m getting in the middle of you two about that.”
Skylar rolls her eyes.
When they first met, Skylar wore nothing but black and often hid her gaze beneath thick, long bangs. She’d found her people among the Wiccans of Salem, and Violet knows and respects that. But much of the way she dressed reflected her dark inner world. Things are a bit different now. Skylar’s… changed since she’s moved in here.
She still meets with her Wiccan friends, and it’s still a large part of who she is. But she doesn’t hide the way she used to. Violet’s brought her out of her shell, you could say.
Violet has that effect on people. She doesn’t have what I’d call a cheery personality—no, she’s really nothing like that. She’s honest, though, sometimes brutally. She hides nothing, so she values bold truth and unencumbered sincerity.
I love that about her. It’s partly why I hate that I’ve hidden anything from her at all.
But Violet has secrets, too.
“I don’t want to decorate,” Violet says, cringing. She throws up her garland-covered hands and gives it to Skylar. “Go ahead. Put ‘em up. Get some… scarecrows for the front yard, or Christmas lights, or whatever the fuck. Peace out.” She hands Skylar the pinecones and leaves the room. I hear the kitchen door shut behind her, then the whines and barks of greeting from Romulus and Remus, our pit bulls. They love Violet.
Joe stares at me, his cheeks still stuffed with cookie. Skylar gives me an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t… really know what set her off. Like, is she hormonal or something?”
Joe holds up his hands and leaves as quickly as he came, likely wanting nothing at all to do with a discussion about Violet’s hormones.
I blow out a breath and shake my head. I suspect I know what’s bothering her.
“It’s not you,” I tell Skylar. “Let me handle her.”
Skylar turns back to the mantle and arranges the pinecones with a flair of victory. She got her way. “Oh believe you me, I am happy to stand back and let you handle her, as long as you handling her is done behind closed doors.”
This, from the girl who once had a chair particularly suited for tantric sex maneuvers in her bedroom.
“Are those scented?” The smell of cinnamon and cloves lingers in the air.
“Mhm,” she says triumphantly. “I wanted to get pumpkin spice, but Violet had an opinion on that.” She sniffs the air in mock dismay.
It’s sunny but chilly when I go out the back door to find Violet. I know I need to. I know I’m the only one that knows what’s bothering her, and I don’t want anything to fester between us.
I glance to the left where we often train. I’ve given Violet free rein to teach martial arts classes, and she’s enjoying it. But the training field, the outside ring, and the semi-enclosed area near the pool are all vacant. Romulus and Remus are still by the back door, standing guard. I pat their heads.
“Where’d she go, boys? Target range?” They only lick my hands but don’t betray Violet’s whereabouts. Figures.
I look to the target range, but it looks undisturbed. I open the door just to be safe, but it’s cold and dark when I enter. Vacant.
“Violet!” I call her name, hoping she’ll answer, but the wind picks up and swallows my voice. Clouds part, brilliant light bathing the ground in front of me. Down by the private beach that flanks my home, I look for footprints, but find nothing.
I know where she is.
I walk down a hidden walkway built from rocks, so discreet and functional, it’s as if the side of the mountain where my home’s built was designed primarily for this function. I walk down to the beach, hang a left, and head for the large, private open field where I’ve set up her training station.
My men use it, too, but we all know it’s Violet’s.
It took a solid week of construction, and the equipment needed would buy me a new truck, but it was worth every penny. The waterproof, outdoor-proof training station is suitable for stretching and boxing. Featuring cables, a dual stack functional trainer for combat and rebounding, two pull-up stations, and monkey bars, it’s state-of-the-art.
Violet calls it “going out to play,” but the intensity of the equipment and how she uses it is anything but. To the left of what looks like a souped-up playground, we set up a secure shed to house heavy sandbags, strength bands, medicine balls and kettlebells. We have a fully equipped indoor exercise room, but Violet prefers working outside. She thrives in the outdoors with nothing but the sky above her.
I can see her tiny, petite frame, dangling from a pull-up bar, suspended in the air like she’s weightless. I stand against the rocky wall that leads to her workout area. Watching.