Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Sulli is already approaching the booth. Disappointment all over her face. “What the fuck, Beckett. How long?”
He looks pained. “It’s not a big deal—”
“You’re using drugs!” Her eyes bug. “We said we’d never take the easy out and use performance enhancers!”
“Ballet is different than swimming.”
“Fuck that,” Sulli cringes. “Jane is right. You didn’t tell me because I’m the one person who chose a sport over a childhood and I’m the one person who can tell you fuck your excuses.”
Beckett shoots to his feet. “What about you? The second you retire from swimming you’re all of a sudden drinking alcohol and passing out—at least I’m not pointlessly destroying my body.”
I wince.
“Cold, brother,” Eliot says sadly.
Sulli grits her teeth. “Fuck you.”
“No, fuck you,” Beckett snaps.
We did not plan for a friendship to blow to smithereens tonight. I spring to my feet. Thatcher stands, and Maximoff is already at Sulli’s side, ushering her backwards while I talk to Beckett and repeat the same ultimatum.
Beckett holds out his hands like he’s at gunpoint. “If I leave, the company will replace me in Cinderella with Leo. He’s already being called the blond version of me.” Leo Valavanis is the same age, same height, same build, and same costume measurements as Beckett, and he’s also another male principal dancer. Unfortunately, their rivalry in the company has created good buzz for the ballet.
“You can stay in Cinderella,” I remind him. “Just stop using.”
Beckett massages his palm. “And if I don’t? You can’t force me on a plane.”
I quirk my brow. “I’m your big sister. I can do anything.”
He takes a few tense breaths, still on his feet.
Charlie rises, leaning his weight on a cane. “What have you learned, children?” This is a classic Cobalt word game.
What have you learned, children? Whoever asks this directs the game to those younger than them.
Beckett is next in age and supposed to pick a line of poetry, the others will then add to his opening line.
He stares at the table. “I’m not playing.”
Eliot rises. “It was all decaying.”
Tom leans back. “I can feel us fraying.”
Ben opens his mouth to finish the poem. His eyes start filling with tears. And he buckles forward and cries into his palms.
My heart tears to shreds. Usually Beckett is the one to console our youngest brother. But his face contorts in pain, and he pushes out of the booth.
Leaving.
Charlie follows, their bodyguards leading the way. I worry that Beckett will go out tonight.
But quickly, I slip into the booth and hug Ben. He cries into my shoulder.
“He’ll be okay, Pippy,” I whisper, and I look up at Thatcher. He crouches so we’re more eye-level.
“I’ve asked Akara to put my brother with Beckett tonight. He agreed.”
Banks is doubling up on Beckett’s detail. I breathe easier. Banks will look after Beckett. I know Thatcher’s brother has been drinking, but definitely not enough to be more than buzzed.
“Thank you,” I say, my torn heart mending in a strong beat.
He nods and then holds out his pinky. “I promise we won’t fuck this.” He means forcing my brother on a plane. It’s going to take strength and terrible might. Together.
One hand on Ben’s head, I use my other and hook my pinky to my boyfriend’s. He kisses my knuckles, and my heart rises with a smile that shouldn’t exist.
Yet, he’s summoned one out of my soul. Reaching deeper inside me than anyone ever has or could.
And it’s terrifying.
11
THATCHER MORETTI
One month into the twisted Truth or Dare game, and some of the “tell us” questions have been like slogging through knee-deep cement.
Tell us your last sexual fantasy: Jane horizontal on a kitchen table while I pound my nine-inch dick inside her pussy.
I politely answered, sex on a table.
I got reamed for not including, with Jane.
It feels like I blow my shot to hell with every card flip. I piss off or irritate at least one Cobalt.
Jane’s response was more graphic, and I almost smiled when she described me pinning her against the wall. My hands cupping her ass, her legs hooked around my waist, my cock filling her to the brim with each thrust. Her face was bright red by the end of answering, but she did it.
Bolder and better than me.
The dares, on the other hand, are a cakewalk.
Strip to your underwear and watch Titanic four consecutive times.
Easy.
It took me back to Marine boot camp. Holding my piss while running a ridiculous amount of miles under 20 minutes. Having four Drill Instructors spit-yell insults and nonsense in my ear, their noses rubbing up against my nose while I couldn’t flinch.
Couldn’t talk.
I played this warped game of Simon Says where I’m never right, even when I am, and I still have to jump when I know the smarter route is to stand.
I’m fit for hell.
Semper Fi.
But Jane, the sweetest thing my arms have ever held—she’s fit for heaven. She was restless after the eight-hour mark but she persevered. The good: she was beside me.