Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Knight’s nose scrunches an inch. “Shit, Lege. You smell like burnout.”
“Nice to see you too.”
Creed is going through a mixture of emotions with his eyes alone. First, assessment. The second is annoyance. The third is something like worry, which I hate on him because it means it’s real.
“Sit.”
“I’ll stand.”
He ignores it.
Sinner sprawls into a chair, boots kicking up like he can’t wait for the family drama to spill out of everyone’s mouths. Like we don’t have whole fucking murders happening on our streets.
Sinner points with the cigarette. “Legend’s magic’s acting like a drunk trying to pick up a girl way out of his league.”
Traitor. He winks like he just lit the fuse for fun.
Creed’s mouth flattens. “How long?”
“I don’t know. Recent enough.” I finally take the chair, knowing that I won’t be able to escape this conversation. Brothers. They’re basically extensions of your parents. We can’t escape one another ever.
Knight’s gaze is steady. “Define ‘recent.’”
I roll my shoulders to shift the ache. “Since the Island, I think. Since I got back.”
Creed leans forward. “Your principal powers don’t ‘slip’ unless something knocks it out of you.”
“Thanks for the primer,” I say. The laugh chokes in my throat and comes out a rasp. “I didn’t study.”
Knight’s eyes cut to my face. He inhales, that little flare that means he’s not just smelling with his nose. Bonds. Oaths. The weft we all carry. “You smell wrong.”
“Appreciate it. I’ll take a shower later.”
“Like you’ve been hollowed,” he continues, ignoring my hiss. “Like something is picking bits away.”
Sinner makes a low noise. “Sexy.”
Creed’s gaze slices like he wants to cut what he sees out of me with a knife. “We need to name the cause if we’re going to cauterize the wound.”
The word cauterize makes me twitch. “We?”
“We.” He gestures a hand at the table. “And, since you’re already lying to yourself, I’ll do the knife work.” He holds my gaze. “She isn’t your mate.”
My hands curl on nothing. The room drops a degree. Even Sinner doesn’t crack a joke.
“I know what bonds feel like,” Knight goes on. Calm. Reasonable. Hammer to the skull. “I know what they do, what they give.” He studies me with critical eyes. “They fuel, stabilize. They don’t drain. That girl, she is emptying your reserves.”
Sinner shifts, attempting to save some of the argument. “It isn’t a normal bond we’re familiar with, I’ll give you that,” he says to Knight.
“Shut up,” I snap.
Knight’s words land heavy in my chest, but only because I want to knock him out for trying to make sense of Creed’s bullshit. There is no sense to be made.
She is mine, period.
Knight leans an inch into the table, and the bone doesn’t dare creak. “London binds sanity to me, not madness. She doesn’t leave me a cracked vessel. She is not a leak. She doesn’t take. Haide”—He lets the name hang. My jaw tightens—“does. You want to pretend that isn’t true because she makes you feel things you didn’t before, something about her demands your attention and loyalty. But it isn’t love. It’s compulsion; and compulsion feels like drowning when it’s not fed.”
“You done?” I say, brows raised, unfazed.
“No. You’re off. You’re dangerous when you’re off. Not just to you. To everyone who depends on your calm—”
“I am not off.” I step into the words. “And don’t you dare put London in your mouth when you’re trying to teach me what a mate is. We all know the bond isn’t one size fits all. It arrives exactly as it should depending on the people who are connected.”
Knight’s brows lift. Sinner snorts a laugh that almost goes ugly.
Creed’s eyes flatten. “She is not your mate, Legend.”
“How do you know, Creed, hm?” I press. “Because her head isn’t just a pretty little buffet for you to feed on the way you wish, but instead a god damn maze you can’t see your way out of?”
His features harden and I scoff. “That’s what I thought. You don’t trust her because you can’t find the truth in her mind and you, dear brother, have wrapped yourself in your gift so tight you abandoned observation, inference, instinct. Hell, you’ve abandoned everything, except the one shortcut that keeps you comfortable.”
His nostrils flare and I shake my head. “You don’t know how to find truth anymore, Creed, only how to extract it.”
My brothers don’t even blink. “She is a leech. She’s not your mate, Legend.”
“What the fuck do you know about a mate, brother? Hmmm?” I challenge. “Got one of these we’re not aware of?”
“Legend.” Knight’s tone is so quiet and I look his way.
“What?”
“Breathe.”
I do. In. Out. It burns like I inhaled razors.
Fuck. I don’t know what to do with rage when I can’t calm myself. Heat prickles down my throat, enough to make me almost choke.
Creed watches. He always watches. “Your magic is failing because something is yoking it. That isn’t an accusation or something that needs…extraction.” Yeah, knew I burnt his ass with that. Good. “It’s a diagnosis. And that something is her. She’s from Exile Island, Legend, and you’ve been weakening since she got here. Meanwhile, how was her training yesterday? Good? How is she doing under Professor Astras’s instruction? What is she gaining, Legend?”