Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
I head for the shower, leaving any and all of the conversation I just had behind. Stepping under the hot water, I rest my head against the marble wall. She can’t fucking know who we are. I mean, who we really fucking are. I smirk as the water drips down my face. Revenge isn’t always sweet; sometimes, it’s a bitter reminder of the demons you missed, so you need to cock back, aim, reload, and…bang.
“Okay, okay.” I laugh, resting my legs up on the dashboard. It’s mid-afternoon, and we’ve been driving for what feels like days. We have around four more hours to go before we get to New York. “You might be right about that.” I chuckle at Justice’s poor attempt at thinking up conspiracy theories. “But I think the Avril Lavigne clone thing is a little far-fetched. I mean, you’re giving the human race way too much credit. We are not a species made to last.”
Justice chokes on his drink. “Why do you say that?”
“Easy,” I say, nudging my sunglasses down my nose and looking at him from over the rim. “We live in an economy that thrives on the underprivileged staying under, and the rich getting richer. We have wars happening all over the world, and now, people are so damn sensitive. Everyone is offended by being offended and then get offended that they’re offended.”
“Okay, you lost me, sugar, but I see your point.”
I shrug, pushing my glasses back up. “So tell me something about you.”
Justice laughs. “Nope. Not going there.”
“Little Bird, come here!” Killian calls out from behind me. I’ve been purposely ignoring them the entire trip, making small talk with Justice, but this is the first time any of them have actually called for me.
I turn around. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t a question,” Kyrin bites, pouring vodka into a glass. He looks at me over the rim as he tosses it back. “You act like you’re not a prisoner. Maybe I should remind you and tie you to my bed.”
Killian laughs, throwing down his hand of cards. “You’re scaring her, Ky.”
Kyrin glares at me. “Good. I like them scared. It gets my dick hard.”
King’s walking down the stairs interrupts our back and forth—thankfully. I really want to go up there to see what it looks like, but it was made clear, at the very beginning, that up there was out of bounds for me, and right now, I don’t feel like testing their restraint.
King goes to the fridge, pulling out deli meat and mustard and getting busy on a sandwich. I know that he’s the leader of them all, but it’s a weird dynamic. They all move fluidly, even though King doesn’t really hang with them. From what I’ve seen. Or maybe he’s just not social. Just as that thought breezes through my brain, King drops down on the stool beside Kyrin, taking a massive bite out of his sandwich with his eyes on me. It’s creepy. As though he can hear the thoughts inside my head.
Kyrin slides over a glass of what looks like some mix of alcohol. Or Coke, maybe.
King’s eyes stay on mine as he picks it up and takes a long drink.
“Little Bird, come play,” Killian taunts, snapping me out of my Kingston trance.
“Play what?” I ask, watching them all with suspicion.
Killian raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Well, if I get to choose…”
If I play a game with them, cards by the looks of it, what could be the worst that could happen?
“Go on, Little Bird. They don’t bite,” Justice adds faintly.
“Oh, don’t we?” Killian teases, sending me a wink.
King kicks out the chair opposite his, nodding his head toward it. “Well, come on, Little Dove.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, while pinning me with his icy glare. “Don’t you want to see if we bite?”
My legs shake beneath my weight, and my breath catches in my throat, but I find myself heading straight for the chair. One step. Two step. Three… I sit, noticing the cards laid out on the table.
“What are we playing?”
King leans back in his chair and grins. “You.”
I clear my throat. I’ve never seen his smirk, and now I wish I hadn’t. It’s deadly, like something you’d imagine in your nightmares. The only difference between him and the monster that awaits you in those nightmares when you close your eyes is that Kingston comes dressed as everything you’ve ever wanted.
“He’s kidding.” Keaton stares at me blankly.
“Or is he?” Killian teases.
Kyrin rolls his eyes, dealing my hand. “The game is called sixers.” Kyrin hands me six cards and continues. “The object of the game is to read people. Can you do that?”
“Honestly?” I answer, scooping up my cards. “No.”
Kyrin pauses his dealing, his eyes going around the table. He keeps talking. “Well, you might learn, or you might not. I guess we’re about to find out. So the object is for all of us to pick up the cards. The dealer, who is me for this hand, has three questions. You start with the left and go around the circle. Use your three questions wisely, because that’s all you get before you have to guess the one card they pick out of the six they have. You get it right, you get that card. The player with the most cards at the end of the game has one dare to use. So, say if I won, I could choose one of you to do anything that I wanted, and you’d have to do it.”