Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
His wavy jet-black hair falls over broad shoulders, the kind of effortless perfection that shouldn’t exist outside of a dream—or a nightmare. His full lips are so devastatingly tempting, it doesn’t matter if he’s about to throw me a compliment or stab me with a dagger.
High cheekbones and eyes the color of the earth after rain—dark, rich, and impossible to escape once you’re in too deep—make him into something almost inhuman, a force of nature wrapped in fury. And those arched eyebrows? I doubt they’ve ever had the audacity to lift in anything close to amusement.
He’s angry, a lightning storm bottled tight, and the worst part is, he has no clue why.
Confusion flickers across his face for half a second, a micro-expression of hesitation, before his jaw sets like iron.
And now he’s leaning in closer. My pulse spikes, betraying me.
Finally, he leans down as if to get on my level. His sneer has me almost taking a step backward. “So are you lost or just looking to get burned again?”
Chapter Six
Rey
I watch him. I don’t flinch. I don’t react. I am, after all, the one who’s going to take him down.
Besides, Father taught me it’s smarter to observe than engage, even as Aric’s words slice through me. No hint of softness from the guy I met on the beach, the guy who gave me actual hope for something different. He’s unfeeling. But what more could I expect from Aric than an absolutely soul-altering chill?
I force a smile.
I show teeth.
He can try to intimidate me, but I know exactly who I am and what I’m capable of.
“She’s with me, unfortunately,” Reeve drawls, barely looking up from his iPad. “Just checking her in. Due diligence, graduation requirements, blah blah blah.”
Reeve’s tone is a complete contrast to the warning he gave me earlier. No anger here, just boredom.
Aric grunts and shoulders past me. Damn, he’s strong. Then again, of course he is. Honestly, nothing should surprise me about him anymore.
“Nice to see you again as well,” I offer, my voice too bright. Shit. He’s already got me off-balance.
Of course, we both know we need to keep up some semblance of politeness just in case people are watching, which I can guarantee they are, popcorn in hand. With two rich heirs to their parents’ thrones, who wouldn’t be invested? But we haven’t said a word to each other in two years, and after all that time, I can’t help a part of me wondering if it even happened or if I just imagined the whole thing, so desperate to connect with someone. Anyone. Even an Erikson.
He turns back, and his burnished eyes linger a moment too long before he rasps, “That makes one of us.”
There it is. The tick in his jaw. That flicker of something raw under the ice. Ah, always good to be reminded that you mean nothing.
Something twists deep in my chest—sharp and cold and shameful. Like I’ve been sucker punched and have to pretend it didn’t hurt.
I don’t know why I bothered hoping Aric was different. He’s not like me. He’s like him. The kind of person who wounds carelessly—until the knife is buried too deep for you to even scream.
Knowing he’s capable of that kind of cruelty will only make it easier when he ends up on the other side of my blade. This man is only out for himself; the rest of the world can burn. Unlucky for him, I was raised to handle men exactly like that. Another of my father’s gifts.
Reeve breaks the silence by dragging my bag onto the elevator, louder than necessary. I follow without giving Aric a backward glance.
“Good talk!” Reeve calls to his brother as the elevator doors slide shut.
My stomach flutters a bit. Which makes no sense. Aric’s just proven exactly what kind of an ass he is. And yet…
One thing is clear. If I’m going to be successful in this mission, I need to kill every flicker of emotion…and inconvenient attraction…Aric inspires in me. Still.
“At least his moods have gotten better,” I mutter.
Reeve ignores me and stares down at the iPad. “Room 209, and yes, my brother has perfected the fine art of assholery. Also, he has no soul.” He taps the screen. “And unfortunately for you…” He makes a face. “You’re right next door.”
“To what?”
Please say the bathroom.
A balcony.
The laundry room.
I need at least one place of solitude.
Reeve hits the second-floor button and smiles at his own reflection in the shiny elevator doors. “Him.”
Chapter Seven
Rey
Tension builds in my shoulders as I wait for Reeve to step out of the elevator first. I keep my expression neutral, forcing myself to take in my surroundings like I actually care about whatever hallway decor they have going on.
My stomach drops.
Son of a bitch.
Legends humans call “Norse” line the dorm walls like a shrine to revisionist history…but the truth is older than language. These weren’t myths. They were beings. And they weren’t born from story—they birthed the stories.