Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 234
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
It’s the love.
The loyalty.
The unfailing, undying, unblistered power of family. It’s how there’s light in each of my siblings so bright that it’s not a question of whether they can illuminate the night sky. They just do. Being around them is like finding a way out of darkness, a way home.
“The gates to our family rarely open,” Eliot warns. “You bring them closer and closer, they start seeing what’s inside and believe they’ll have it one day. It’ll break them knowing they can’t.”
“Could the gates open for her?” I ask him.
My family’s fierce devotion—it’s everything she’s never had growing up, and I want her to experience love that never leaves you cold. To not just look up and see a constellation, but to be among those eternal stars.
He casts a glance toward the couch, the coffee machine gurgling softly behind him, then looks me over. “Oh, to be nineteen again.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
He picks up a mug, tossing it in his palm. “Girls will come and go out of your life, little brother.”
His words stab me. “She’s different,” I say, my voice hostile. “She’s not coming or going. She’s here, and she’s staying.” I say this from my absolute core. I want her to stay. I want them to be there for her. I need them to let her through those gates without trouble, and it’s asking a lot.
I know it is.
He lets out a weighted breath, and his gaze no longer pins to the pull-out. He’s staring at me. Through me. He processes for a long moment, squinting in the dark. All I can hope is he can see how much I care for her. How much she means to me.
Then he breathes out, “Well, shit.”
“What?” I frown.
“I’ll have to put her on my fuck with her and die list.”
I start to smile. It’s very much what I want. “Tu promets?” You promise?
“De tout mon être.” With my whole soul. He comes closer and curves an arm around my head, bringing our foreheads together before messing my hair and letting go.
I smile even wider. Promises from Eliot carry the most weight in my family. He’d choose death over breaking one he made to us.
He’s grinning off my happiness. “It’s not too long of a list, just so you know. One cannot go to battle for every soul.”
I nod strongly. “Thanks, Eliot,” I tell him with depth.
He nods back, holding my gaze for another beat, as if seeing there is something deeper at play. But the coffee machine beeps. He spins around and pours himself a cup, then raises the mug to me. “Off for round three.”
27
BEN COBALT
My mind keeps whirling back to that night. The couch. The “friendly” sleepover. After I cooled off and climbed back into bed, I thought about turning away from her. Letting a pillow separate our bodies. But I couldn’t resist shifting closer.
Harriet naturally reached for me when I brought my arm over her. She curled up into my biceps that I tucked around her frame. She let me hold her while we slept, and it’s those innocent hours underneath the blankets that I’ve replayed over and over just as much as the volatile quakes of her climax.
She left in the morning before my brothers even woke.
It’s been three days. Three fucking days and my brain has made about a million revolutions around her. She returned to her pull-out couch. I stayed on mine.
It’s better this way, I remind myself. She has a history of using sex transactionally, and I don’t want to risk her sliding into that loop with me. Separation is good.
My brain hasn’t picked up that message yet, but we’ll get there.
I comb some wet strands of hair out of my face. The showers at MVU’s gym have shit water pressure, but that’s about my only complaint today at tryouts. A true shock to my system considering I had a laundry list of complaints on my old team.
Former captain called me a “nepo baby” after every game—which sidenote: not an insult when it’s a fact—but he always made sure to sling it like a slight. The coach made me do more suicide drills on the ice than I care to admit.
Usually alone.
Usually after practice.
He’d have the assistant coach stay behind to blow the whistle. And fuck if I don’t hate that shrill sound in a near empty rink with no teammates around me. It ruined any peace I felt while skating.
So this morning, I fully expected some extra laps or an underhanded dig from at least one of the guys on the MVU team. But the left wing gave me a slap on the shoulder like I already belonged. The goalie invited me out for a beer. (I don’t think he knows I’m nineteen.) The center complimented my pivots. It felt like the fucking Twilight Zone. I half-expected Eliot to pop out of the stands and tell me they were all actors he hired.