The Wild Mustang & The Dancing Fairy (St. Mary’s Rebels #1.5) Read Online Saffron A. Kent

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: St. Mary’s Rebels Series by Saffron A. Kent
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Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 46183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
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“Explanation.”

I flinch at Con’s angry voice but still, I grab his arm and plead with him, “Con, he’s not like that. He’s not. I know you hate him. I know Ledger hates him too but he’s not all bad. He’s not. You don’t know him like I do. You don’t…” I gather my scattered breaths again. “I was going to tell you, I promise. I was. I just… I’m sorry that I lied. I’m so sorry. But Con, there has to be an explanation for this. If I could just –”

“Enough,” he snaps, making me shut my mouth and let go of his arm. Then he pulls in a deep breath, as if to calm himself. “We’ll talk about this later, you understand? Go back to your show right now. You’ve got a show, remember?”

“I don’t care about the show, Con. I need to see if Ledger’s okay and I need to talk –”

“All you need to do is go back to the show. You need to go dance and we’ll talk about this later, got it?” he orders. “Straight to your show, Callie. You’re done wasting your time on him.”

I watch him from across the space.

He’s sitting on an overcrowded couch with a bunch of his friends. There are girls in the mix, of course. But he’s not paying attention to any of them.

In fact, all his attention is on his bottle.

The same one as yesterday. The liquor that looks like water, vodka.

Even though he’s focusing on the alcohol, I’m still jealous of all the girls around him. I’m still jealous that they’re trying to get his attention like they always do.

I want his attention.

I just don’t know how to get it.

I’m too afraid to walk up to him.

I’m too afraid to ask him.

I’m too afraid...

Come on, Callie. Do it.

That’s what you came here for, right?

Right.

That’s why I abandoned my show and came to this place.

This place outside of my town where this strange party is happening and Reed is in attendance.

After Con told me to go back to the show, Tempest found me again. She dragged me away from the crowd and took me to a quiet place, away from the stadium.

Away from all the people, from all the violence.

Even she knew I couldn’t dance like this.

She stayed with me as I cried and shook.

As my whole body was wracked with waves and waves of chills.

She stayed with me as I ran through a thousand different scenarios in my head. As I went over what I saw and what Con told me and what I know.

What I know in my heart about Reed.

About my Roman.

I’m not sure how long I stayed like that, huddled into myself with Tempest rubbing my back and my arms.

All I know is that when I could gather my strength, I asked her to find him.

I asked her to take me to him.

And despite vehemently disagreeing with it at first and saying that I needed to go home and take care of myself, she brought me here.

She said that she saw it on social media. Someone had tagged Reed on Instagram, saying that he was at a party outside of Bardstown.

So that’s where I am, at a party, watching the guy I’m in love with chugging down vodka, surrounded by a drunk crowd.

I try to make myself move.

I try to make myself call out his name, wave at him, do something to catch his attention. But I’m just frozen in my spot, too scared to move.

A second later though, I don’t have to.

Because as always, he senses me.

He looks up from the bottle and his eyes land on me instantly and they start to glow.

His wolf eyes.

They sparkle as he stands up from the couch and starts walking toward me, leaving everything behind.

The crowd parts for him as he approaches me, his gaze growing heavier and more intense with every step he takes.

The moment he reaches me and stops, I realize that he’s wearing all black.

I don’t know why that’s important.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about his black t-shirt paired with dark jeans. I don’t know why I find his black leather jacket intimidating and dangerous, but I do.

I’m thinking about how all this darkness makes his vampire skin come alive.

How his bruises, old and new, come alive as well.

How he’s too beautiful for words.

Too otherworldly. Too gorgeous.

He looks down at me with a strange kind of tenderness as he takes in my costume, my make-up that’s ruined now, and my blonde hair twisted into a bun, which again is ruined, strands hanging around my face in tatters.

But the way his eyes melt at the sight of me makes me think that I’m the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

It makes me think that I’m too beautiful for words. Too otherworldly. Too gorgeous.

“Fae,” he whispers roughly, drunkenly. “You’re here.”


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