Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 53212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
I’ve been fighting the magnetic pull to claim her ever since. Including tonight. Especially tonight.
It doesn’t matter that I didn’t want this—that I don’t fucking want this. I’ve spent my entire life bucking the rules and the expectations of the machine that chews human women up and spits them out after giving them bullshit promises of luxury and status in exchange for their sustenance. I’ve spent my entire life preparing to give it all the middle finger.
But now that I’m in the nitty-gritty of it, my body’s nearly inconsolable. It’s pathetic at best.
I spare myself no pity, slinging my bag over my shoulder with shaking hands, barking an order at my brothers. “Just fucking drop it.”
Kane smirks at me like he can see inside my head. The fucker can’t, no matter how hard he tries. That’s a gift reserved for only me, it seems.
“I know you’re fucking feeling it,” he pushes, not dropping it at all. “You have to be, bro. You look at her like the whole world will collapse if you blink.”
Calloway’s gaze sharpens as he searches my face for answers I never wanted to have. “Just tell me this…did you feel it immediately after turning twenty-eight? Just turned on like a light switch? Or was it, like, a slow build for the last few months or something?”
I don’t answer. I don’t have to. The look on my stupid fucking face says enough.
Kylie Moon has always drawn attention. I saw it, even if I didn’t care. But now, it’s killing me to let her out of my sight, as if my body registers her absence before my mind can even justify it.
It’s night and fucking day.
She’s always been beautiful, but now, she’s everything.
Kane’s mouth stays shut for once, and Calloway exhales slowly, finishing with a whistle that echoes throughout the locker room. “Okay, then. Immediate.”
“Finish packing your shit and meet me outside,” I snap through gritted teeth, grabbing my bag and storming out the locker room door to answer the loudening call to be near her.
Neither brother says a word as I exit because they know this isn’t something we talk about lightly. Both of my brothers are Chatty Fucking Cathys every goddamn day of the week, but there’s some shit you don’t say out loud, vampire and mate included.
I lean against the glass, across the rink from the other spectators—to put it nicely—watching Kylie on the ice. She’s smooth and confident, and every muscle movement is tight and controlled, like she knows exactly where her body is at all times. My body mirrors the feeling, reveling in the comfort of watching her.
She has no idea that she’s being circled as prey, and even more fucked up, my desperate, choking yearn is only a small piece of it.
Holland Thorne, the Fighting Fangs’s biggest piece of shit, leans against the glass on the far side, pretending to joke with the other guys on his team. He watches her closely, tracking her movements, and logging something behind his slimy fucking smile I wish I could figure out. Unfortunately, the elites have gifted him with the ability to shield, so I’m shit out of luck, despite my heightened abilities.
My jaw tightens. Fuck that guy. Fuck everything about him.
Kane, having joined me from the locker room, follows my line of sight. “He looks pretty focused over there.”
Calloway nods. “He’s also been asking questions.”
That gets my full attention. Cal has always had hearing like a hawk. “About her?”
“Yeah. Her job. Her routines. Where she lives. Where her roommate was tonight. If she’s dating anyone.” Calloway’s voice drops. “Any chance he can get, I hear him asking her shit. Hear him asking other people about her shit. It’s nothing overt. But it feels a lot like the pattern behavior we’ve seen before.”
Fuck. My blood spikes sharp and violent.
I know what kind of man Holland is. I know who he works for. I know where his priorities lie. When it comes to women, I know what Holland’s motives are, and I really wish I didn’t give a single fucking shit. But I do.
The universe has seen fit that I would.
Every abominable cell inside my goddamn body feels like it’s programmed to care. I try to force the rage down, but swallowing past it feels like barbwire.
Before I know it, I find myself saying, “Keep ears on him.”
Cal waggles his brows. Kane smiles like a fuckwad. The only thing they love more than giving me shit is listening to me admit I might actually need them.
“Quiet fucking ears.”
“Wasn’t planning on making a scene, bro,” Cal says, and Kane is still grinning. “But I’ll keep my ears open.”
Scenes draw attention, and attention from men like Holland gets certain women killed. And sadly, because of how attuned I am to Kylie Moon, I know she’s a certain kind of woman—one that attracts the men Holland works for like bees to honey.