Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
If that kiss wasn’t real, I’m very good at fantasizing.
Spinning slowly, I put my shoulder to the cabinet again, but this time, I imagine Cal on the other side of the window calling to me. It takes me a few seconds and a lot of muscle, but the cabinet starts to move.
I stop abruptly as the raw certainty that last night was not a dream at all takes over.
I’m not crazy.
I know Cal was here.
I know how his lips felt on mine.
I know the completeness that knitted the very gap I feel now in my chest.
I know.
And with that certainty, I gain more of my memory.
His explanation of our destiny. His war with himself over being here. His simple request that I seed the doubt of the women alongside me and his belief in my ability to do it without calling attention to myself.
He wasn’t just here. He was the answer to my prayers and the savior I’ve always dreamed of. He was the man of integrity I so desperately wanted him to be, and he was the affirmation my instincts needed.
As a plan hatches within my mind, I double-check the schedule for my next move.
10:00 a.m. Individual Fitness/Meditation Time
And then, I search my bag for workout clothes.
It’s not about the fitness—it’s about the opportunity to mingle. Without a phone or computer or any access to the other girls or their rooms, the scheduled activities are the only way to make waves.
And at Cal’s specific request, make waves I will.
Cal
Romy is the first thing on my mind when I wake up.
She was the last thing there when I fell asleep too—memories of the kiss we shared front and center in my mind.
And that memory hasn’t loosened its grip on me for a second since.
Being separated from her in a place like this—where danger lurks behind every polished door and smiling face—has my nerves pulled tighter than I’d like to admit.
The bond is growing by the minute. I can feel it. A steady pull in my chest that deepens with every hour we’re kept apart. My body is already seeking her out, already craving the closeness that watching my brothers find their mates taught me to recognize for what it is.
I rinse the last of the shaving cream from my face, beads of water clinging to my skin, just as a knock sounds at the door, interrupting the process of getting ready for breakfast.
The schedule for Selection members isn’t as detailed as the one they’ve built for the ladies, but it’s enough to keep us busy most hours of the day. I recognize it for what it is—control—but dread it for another reason entirely.
At this point, every moment spent away from Romy burns a deeper pit into my stomach.
I wipe my face with the towel by the sink, grab the dress shirt draped over the foot of the bed, and sling it over my shoulders as I move toward the door. My fingers work through the buttons automatically while I cross the room at a speed that would blur for human eyes.
Lucian’s smirk is pointed and assessing as I open the door.
Keeping me off-kilter and unable to plan is a strategy I recognize all too well from several of the foster homes my brothers and I found ourselves in growing up. It’s weakness assessment in its most innocent form, but unfortunately for my uncle, I’m even better at the game.
I’ve had to be.
“Good morning, Lucian,” I greet, my words echoing the confidence of my posture. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“You have?” A grin tilts the corner of his mouth, but the sinister nature of the curvature is far from a smile.
“Of course.”
He assesses me for a long moment before gesturing for me to join him outside, and I pull the door closed behind me as I do just that, tucking my freshly buttoned shirt into my dress pants. It’s been a long night of wandering thoughts and incomplete plans, but I find myself more energized than ever at the small victory of catching him off guard.
As a mechanically inclined guy, I know it’s the small things like that that can dismantle a whole system’s existence. The rubber grommets that hold pressure. The pressure points that support giant spans. I’m one tiny thing away from burning this whole thing to the ground.
And the place to start is at the beginning—my beginning.
With my mother.
The woman who gave all three Slater brothers life.
As we stroll the gravel path through the villas, I overturn the first stone. It doesn’t matter what his purpose for this morning visit was—now, its purpose is my own. And I want to bleed every ounce of information from him that I can.
“How old was my mother when she came to Selection?”
His pause is minute but noticeable all the same. I log it for later introspection. “She was twenty-two.”