Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 160578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 803(@200wpm)___ 642(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 803(@200wpm)___ 642(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“Home.” I slide into the back seat and shut the door. Closing my eyes, I count to five. It doesn’t matter if he did see who was driving. What was he going to say?
The separator lowers, and friendly eyes meet mine. “They await you.”
My blood warms as I relax into the leather. “Thank you.”
Chapter Fourteen
luna
some girls crave love from a monster, if only to feel worthy of their wrath.
Built out of a dream, it towers up to the clouds with pointed elegance. I haven’t been here since I was a child, yet nothing has changed. Manicured gardens fit for royalty and grandeur to match the title, it would take someone a second to know who owns it.
Heavy doors swing open as a young girl pauses in her step when her eyes land on me. Honey-blonde hair is pulled up in a high pony, emphasizing her flawless dark skin and makeup applied by someone who clearly knows what they're doing. Dressed edgy in loose-style jeans with pockets, a tight cami, and Jordans, she seems relaxed enough to know her way around.
She tilts her head, her eyes flying to the car I climbed out of. “You here to see Halen?”
“She’s here to see Madison.” Bishop widens the door behind her.
“Okay….” She shrugs, flashing a smile and jogging down the stairs while humming a tune. You don’t want to keep Bishop Vincent Hayes waiting, so I continue through the front door. In an array of regal opulence, the castle is timeless in its elegance. With brushed gold and black color palettes, ceilings that spiral up to the sky, and contemporary medieval architecture, it’s a testament to how far up in the food chain the Kings are. There’s rich, there’s rich rich, and then there’s this kind of rich. The simplicity of a four-letter word seems inadequate.
“Come. This won’t take long.” I follow him down the long hallway, passing stone walls and plain abstract art. He stops outside twin doors and gestures inside with a single swoop of his hand. Heat sails over my skin from the open fireplace, where four wingback sofas surround a walnut-stained coffee table. Bookshelves that reach the ceiling compliment the garland of opulent furnishings. It’s like stepping into the mind of Bishop Vincent Hayes.
“This seat is for you.” Bishop gestures down to the only empty chair near the fire, driving me to the other two that are filled.
Out of instinct, I find Nate. Seconds pass until he nods, and my feet move, shuffling me to the only empty chair. A decanter of whiskey is on the small table between us, surrounded by small glasses and a bucket of ice. An ashtray with burn marks is placed beside it, and a leftover cigarette burning in the middle.
Nate clears his throat. I cross my legs at my ankles, keeping my shoulders straight. “Guess you’re wondering why you’re here.”
“You could say that,” I answer like a well-trained pet. Shadows dance over my vision, and I find myself lost in the grand portrait hanging on the wall. A steel feathered swan with its wings spread over the dimension of Bishop's desk.
Interesting.
About as interesting as them having their “Boardroom” inside Bishop’s family home.
Earthy tobacco notes burn through the air as a Zippo snaps closed, and Bishop leans forward to rest his forearms on his thighs.
“Are you ready, Little One?” Nate’s question has my eyes shifting to him. His finger works his upper lip in slow strokes as the flames from the fireplace leave a scatter of soft hues over his face.
I dampen my lips. It’s not until the pendant's familiar warmth is against my palm that I realize I’ve reached for my necklace. Oh, how so much has changed.
“Always.” My head dips, but I focus on him until Brantley shifts in his chair. Being Vaden’s father, I’ve always assumed their similarities would go further than their looks, but over the time I’d spent with Vaden, it became obvious how different he was from his father, who’s a notorious caveman. Brantley, being the cool, aloof one of the three, seems detached or consistently thinking. Vaden has always been the happy one of the group. The one who can always crack a joke.
Dare I say the gentler one of them.
Maybe I’ve said that too soon, since something seemed off with him tonight.
“Why?” I ask, unsure if I want to know the answer. Whatever reason they pulled me aside tonight, it must be important. They wouldn’t risk the exposure otherwise.
Nate tries to flash one of his signature smirks, and the wrinkles on the side of his eyes deepen as he strokes his fading beard. “We need a favor.”
I blink. “What is it?” This is not good.
His mouth twitches. “Not a ‘sure,’ or ‘Of course! That’s why I’m here!’”
The flutter in my left eye is distracting, but I keep my shoulders straight. “I know better than to agree to a favor to a King before knowing what it is. Family or not…”