Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Ahhhh!” I cried with my orgasm, coming so hard I jerked away—catching the full spray of Ronin’s seed all over my backside.
Tipping over, I was out before I hit the sheets.
Gong! Gong! Gong!
I peeled my eyes open as the lecture gong sounded, dragging me out of unconsciousness. I didn’t know how long I was out, but it was long enough for Ronin to prop me up against the pillows, and settle me into a new sex position.
I blinked at him as he wrapped my legs around his waist. “What are... you doing?” I rasped through needles. “That was the gong. We have class.”
“Oh, sweet Charlotte.” Smirking at me, Ronin pressed a deceptively sweet kiss to my lips. “You’re adorable when you’re this naïve.”
“But—”
That was the only word I got out before he plunged back in. From then on, words failed me for the rest of the afternoon, and long into the night.
Ronin
Charlotte slept tangled in the sheets. For all that she was noisy, defiant, and energetic during the day—she slept like the dead at night.
She lay still and serene, wrapped in the satin sheets. Her breaths barely stirred the pillowcase. The blanket fought not to rise with her chest.
Soaking her in, I let my fingers dance and skitter down her body—enjoying their new playground.
“Mine,” I whispered as I bent over, dropping soft kisses on her ankle. “Finally, you’re mine.”
Rising back up, I snapped out of the room.
I lightly dropped down on the carpet—fully dressed and hair slicked back past my horns. Not that these people were worth getting dressed up for.
I rapped on the wood and the slot slid open.
“What the fuck do you want, demon?”
I stepped back, letting the golden-eyed waste see who he was talking to.
He bit off a curse. Without another word, he stepped back, slammed the slot closed, and the door swung open—welcoming me into the werewolf wing.
Growls sounded from every corner the second I stepped over the threshold, tickling a chuckle from me. Maybe “welcome” wasn’t the right word.
Ignoring the lot of them, I made for the end of the hall—knowing exactly where I was going.
The werewolf wing was much like the demon wing. Even though demons were shitty enough to do it, they didn’t stick the wolves in the worst or most run-down rooms. Some dorms were elegance itself and others were plain and merely serviceable, but none of them were any worse than any other dorm in Abaddon Academy.
Even so, for an alpha, there was no clearer indicator of your pecking order in Abaddon Academy than for you to be stuck in the plain, boring closet dorms.
These mutts loved themselves a hierarchy, and since betas and omegas weren’t allowed to apply to Abaddon by the pack’s rules, that left the alpha students to figure out who was the best and who was the worst among them—for no other reason than they could.
I kicked in the door, finding Tristan No-Name in exactly the dorm I knew he’d have.
Gold-inlay marble floors and roaring, gold-kissed firelight dominated the room. Crystal and gold chandelier and candelabras resting on the mantel. The surround boasted bellowing hellhounds on the face. Carved balustrade that separated the living area from the bedspace. And within that bedspace was a massive canopy bed draped in red-and-gold embroidered curtains.
As I expected, this stupid, worthless, interfering half man wasn’t going to be in any room that wasn’t the counterpart to mine.
Tristan reclined on his chair, puffing on his cigar. The animal naturally couldn’t be bothered with a shirt, so he sat bare-chested with only ripped jeans for cover.
Still, he had more clothes on than his “seat.”
I didn’t bother counting exactly how many naked wolves were under him, serving as his seat, backrest, armrest, and his footrest. Half a dozen at the first glance, and they were all straining under the weight—or the humiliation.
“What the fuck do you want?” Tristan gruffed by way of greeting.
I hummed. “So this is what you get for slaughtering your brethren one after the other? One big room... and half a dozen little bitches.”
Tristan barked a laugh. “It’s not like I’m the one who challenged them to fights to the death. Those dead fuckers came up with that on their own, and these stupid fuckers”—he smacked one over the head—“egged them on. Father always said if you didn’t learn your lesson the first time, you’ll feel it the next time.”
“Hmm, interesting. My father always said if you’ve got to kill and beat people to get them to follow you... it’s because you’re ugly.”
Tristan’s laugh was loud, raucous, and truly very grating.
I cringed at the howling coming out of his mouth.
“Well, luckily, that’s not the case for me.” Tristan puffed his last puff, and then tamped the cigar right out on the back of an exposed neck. “Just ask Charlie,” he said, grinning over the wolf’s pained groaning.