Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Tristan raises his chin, which only makes him look more regal, and spreads his arms wide. “Beer pong it is.”
The crowd erupts with whooping and laughter. Someone yells that it’s set up in the garage, and people flood out of the kitchen in a frenzy. Richie glares at me as he passes but doesn’t dare to even bump his shoulder into me when I’m next to my protector.
My protector who is… who is he exactly? He’s so tall, his costume is immaculate, and even the prosthetics on his ears are Hollywood level.
I shiver when he leans closer, and a strand of his hair falls on my shoulder. I half expect lips on my ear, but he whispers, “What’s beer pong?”
Chapter 5
Tristan
Beer pong is a deceptively simple game. Throw the little ball into your opponent’s cup, and they must drink. Were I not attempting to win at all cost, I might have let Richie get a few balls in just for the fun of it. The cups hold a variety of human alcohols that I would have loved to try in different circumstances.
As it stands, Richie has now been forced to drink from five cups, while each of his attempts didn’t manage to land. He’s found that increasingly frustrating, as he is apparently some kind of champion at this game. Well, all it takes to make the flimsy ball to change its course is a strand of my shadow pushing it away. The thread is barely visible, and as I was presented with the rules, there were none forbidding the use of shadowcraft, so I don’t consider it cheating. Why wouldn’t I use all the tools at my disposal?
Especially with Nate watching from the sidelines, face flushed, black eyes glistening behind glasses like a reflection of the moon inside a cup of Canavan wine.
When I pulled him out of the River of Souls, he was shivering like a fawn born in winter. Like he wasn’t supposed to be there, his shadow so weak it didn’t belong on a human who was to become a Dark Companion. But I saved him. First from the waves, then from Captain Gloombane’s cruelty, and by the time he sank into my arms in a wordless plea for protection, his hooks were deep in my flesh.
So maybe I shouldn’t be sniffing around a human who is another’s promised, but while frowned upon, there’s no law against it. And Gloombane doesn’t need to know about my interest. During the next full moon, he will make Nate his Dark Companion, and then I’ll be free to spread my charm anyway. Nothing wrong in planting the seed of my interest a bit early.
I can’t deny being easily charmed, but Nate has ignited a spark I can imagine burning in my heart for more than a night. Now, in the artificially bright lights the humans love, his skin is no longer pallid like it was last night, but what humans call ‘sun-kissed’. If I play my cards right, it will be Tristan-kissed by next morning, and I’ll know every beauty spot on his dark golden skin by heart.
Now that I see him standing straight, in my velvet cloak and with jewels woven into his midnight black hair, he reminds me of the noble birds patrolling the islands north from the Nocturne Court. Nate’s profile is strong, with a prominent yet narrow nose and lips like strawberries. He’s tall and lanky, with distinctly masculine proportions. I have a healthy interest in people of any gender, and he is a beautiful example of a man of a scholarly nature, with intelligent eyes and long fingers.
I’ve been raised to shelter the defenseless, and the way he clung to me at the river, so very helpless and fragile, makes me feel responsible for him even now. No longer a fawn too weak to stand on his own, Nate still uses my cloak for shelter, eyes sparking with the need to see me succeed. It’s that admiration in his eyes that makes me determined to win at all cost.
And I will be his hero at this strange game I have no experience in. Every time he yells my name and claps, my soul soars as if I’m dueling the Lord of the Nocturne Court himself, and when I win, he shall reward me with all his attention and praise. I’ll bathe in it, all warm and sated. I want to be his knight, his prince, I want him to follow me with his gaze when he walks past me at Gloombane’s side.
I fling the next ball so hard it knocks over the cup it lands in and prompts a discussion about whether I’ve earned a point or not, but I can’t help the bitterness simmering inside me. Gloombane’s very existence is a thorn in my side, but the fact that he has the right to Nate and his shadow, when he’s already proven himself unworthy at the River, is maddening.