Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 140780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
His hands clenched around the steering wheel. “Every family, no matter who they are, has lost someone but...you’re right. Unfortunately, the past twenty years haven’t been kind to the people of Mistwood or the other villages throughout this mountain.”
Lucien stiffened. “What happened to them?”
“Not sure.” Uncle Wen took a corner, bumping over a few rocks and waving at an elderly woman as she carried a basket of washing on her back. “So many have gone missing over the years. Of course, the river has flooded, and the rains have brought heavy landslides but...sometimes they go missing without cause.”
“And no one has thought to try to find them?” Lucien’s face went stony.
“Of course they have.” Uncle Wen braked as yet another flock of children darted past, raggedy but happy, half-painted lanterns flying behind them. “Mistwood and all the surrounding villages have arranged multiple search parties over the years. Together, we’ve searched every inch of the Gaoligong Ranges—the parts that are passable, at least—but no one has ever been found.”
“Even their bodies?” Lucien asked.
Uncle Wen shook his head sadly.
The coldness inside me woke up, tiptoeing along my ribs. Lucien shot me a grateful look, sensing the ice that’d risen to combat his increasing heat, but he wasn’t the only reason the frost stirred.
I couldn’t shake the awful feeling that something bad had happened to them...
We inched past a pack of dogs sunning themselves in the middle of the road.
“Lao Wen!” An old man rose from his stool where he sat with a group of elders playing mahjong. Cigarettes dangled from their wrinkled mouths and the sun was held at bay thanks to the gnarled ginkgo tree. “Here to paint your own lantern?”
“Mei already made ours.” Uncle Wen pulled to a stop and clasped his friend’s hand through the open window. “We’ll be back when it’s dark to light our candles. However...” He shifted in his seat and pointed at Lucien. “We’ll have to send one less this year. Jin and Meilin’s boy is finally home.”
“What? No, it can’t be.” The old man peered at Lucien as if he was seeing a ghost. “Luxin? Little Master Luxin is finally home?”
Lucien gave him a polite nod.
“Shouxin, get back here! You’re ruining the game.” One of the old men threw a crab-apple at us. “Stop gossiping and play your hand.”
“See what I have to put up with?” Shouxin rolled his eyes. “So I’ll see you tonight?” His sharp gaze landed on me, widened on Whisper, then fell back to Lucien with a look of awe. “You’ll come to the festival. Let off a lantern for your parents?”
Lucien balled his hands and flickers of his feelings bled into me. Suspicion and distrust...the same wariness filling me.
Too much death.
Too much loss...
“We’ll stop by once we’ve returned from Brimstone.” Uncle Wen prepared to pull away.
“Good, good.” Stepping back from the car, Shouxin bowed at Lucien. “The villagers in these mountains wouldn’t have survived without your company employing so many of us, Master Luxin. We will always be grateful to the Yunhuis for bringing prosperity to us. Please do come. We’d love to give our respects.”
“Of course.” Lucien forced a smile, his gaze going past the old man to the rice paddies twinkling in the sun, carved into the hillside like a giant’s staircase.
The dogs moved and Uncle Wen resumed driving. Dillon followed—our convoy snaking its way slowly toward the outskirts of the village.
Lucien didn’t speak but I could feel him.
Feel him thinking, burning.
The bond flickered each time we slowed for a child or paused for another roadblock—his impatience growing hotter.
I tried to imagine how I’d feel heading back to Snowflake Corp after so much time away...but he’d only been a child when he’d inherited Brimstone. Marcus had snatched it off him before he’d even ruled and...I had no idea what we were driving into.
“Are you alright?” I asked quietly.
His hands flexed into fists on his thighs. “No.”
At least he was honest.
A waft of heat bled off him, making Uncle Wen look out the window. “Strange weather we’re having. I swear it’s getting warmer by the second.”
Reaching behind Whisper, I placed my hand on Lucien’s hot arm. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”
He shot me a grateful look, then placed his other hand over mine. “Promise me you’ll stay close when we get to Brimstone. Like the old man said, my parents hired as many locals as possible to run the geothermal sites throughout these mountains. They’re completely innocent and I don’t want to hurt them.”
“I’ll be beside you every step of the way.”
“If Marcus is there—”
“I’ll take Whisper and Uncle Wen, and you can burn him into a piece of overdone jerky.”
He chuckled, his temperature cooling a little. Leaning close, he whispered, “I can smell you—that intoxicating scent that corrupts all my senses. It’s taking everything I have not to take you right here.”