Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I didn’t know what to do, but I felt I needed to talk to Avery. He deserved to know the truth about my Drake and his past crimes, though he had been kind enough not to ask. But I had to wait until he came to bed—I couldn’t speak to him in front of the rest of his Coven. I couldn’t even speak to him in the light, I decided. It was better to have this conversation in the darkness—easier to tell him what I needed to say when I couldn’t see the horror that would surely appear in his eyes as clearly as I could have, if the lights were on.
So I waited until he came into our room and slipped off his robe and slippers and slid between the sheets. His bed was directly beside mine, with a nightstand separating them, and his movements were quiet and stealthy, as though he was trying not to wake me.
I took a deep breath, trying to nerve myself for what I had to say. He probably didn’t want to talk to me at all, but I owed him an explanation and I would be damned if I was too cowardly to give it.
“Avery?” I made myself say, my voice a low rumble in the dark. At least it was all my own, without the double echo of my Drake’s voice behind it. He still slept, thank goodness.
He jumped, his bed creaking at his surprised motion.
“Saint?” His voice was higher than my own but still mellifluous. I liked the way it fell on my ears. In fact, I liked everything about him, I admitted to myself, which was probably one reason why it was so hard to know that he probably hated me now.
“I…need to speak to you,” I said, uncertain how to put things. “I know you don’t want me to, but there are certain things we need to talk about.”
He stiffened, going rigid beneath his blankets.
“If you’re worried I’ll try to jump your bones just because I’m a ‘lover of men,’ please don’t be,” he said icily.
I knew what this particular euphemism meant, but it surprised me he would bring it up now.
“I’m not worried about that,” I told him. “But I think I owe you an explanation.”
“For saying what you said, you mean?” Avery demanded. “Don’t worry, Saint—I’ve heard everything I need to. I’m going to be moving out to another room tomorrow. I just didn’t have time to gather all my stuff tonight.”
“You’re moving, are you? Ah…I’m not surprised.” But his words still felt like a punch in the gut. I was glad my Drake was asleep and hadn’t heard him. “I suppose you’re going because you fear me,” I added. “I don’t blame you at all, though I promise my Drake would never harm you as he…harmed the others.”
Killed, more like—but I couldn’t bring myself to say the word.
In the dimness of the room, Avery frowned at me.
“What are you talking about? I’m moving out because of what you think of me—not because of your Drake. Though I admit it is kind of scary to have him, uh, like me so much,” he added in a low voice.
“He feels very protective of you,” I murmured. “Very…drawn to you.”
Inside a little voice asked me if I was talking about my Drake being drawn to him…or myself. I pushed it away.
“Yes, I could tell,” Avery said, frowning. “Sorry about that. It must be hard for you to have your Drake being drawn to someone you can’t stand yourself.”
“What?” I sat up in bed, looking over at him. He was lying on his side with his head on the pillow but even in the dimness of the room, I could see the unhappy look on his face.
“You heard me. I know what you think of me now—what you really think of me,” he said.
I shook my head.
“What are you talking about? I thought you were the one who would think badly of me after what was said in the Headmistress’s office.”
“What was said?” he snapped, sitting up himself and glaring at me. “What was said was that you are not a ‘lover of men’.”
“Well, I’m not,” I said, somewhat surprised by his vehemence. Though when I said it, I couldn’t help feeling somewhat uneasy, as though part of me disagreed with the statement somehow.
“Yes, but I am.” Avery thumped his chest with a fist. “I’m gay, Saint—and I’ve known it since I was a little kid. I know the other Drakes hate me for what I am—well, except for Ari and Kaitlyn—but I thought you were different.”
“I am different from Gonzales and his thugs!” I protested. “Just because I am not a man-lover doesn’t mean I hate you for being one!”
“You sure about that?” Avery raised his eyebrows at me. “The way you said it—the look on your face—I thought…” He shook his head and looked down at his hands, which were still wounded from the rope burns. “I thought I disgusted you,” he said in a low voice.