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)
I laugh. “I got dared to kiss a frog once when I was still a kid. I fell into a stupor for three days. Fortunately, the royal medics revived me. I learned my lesson. Hopefully this was yours. What did he do?”
Nate exhales, leaning into my touch. This time, his gaze doesn’t avoid mine, and he has all of my attention. “He came with me to rescue the puppies, but when we were discovered, he just ran, leaving me behind. That’s how I—” He stalls and clears his throat. “Sorry, I managed to escape in the end but had such strange dreams after. In any case, turns out he’s already hot for some other guy and didn’t even have the decency to break up with me first. I suppose I should have seen it coming, but as always, I made excuses for him.”
I can hardly believe what I’m hearing, but on the other hand, this wouldn’t be the first coward I’ve encountered. “So what I’m hearing is that he is the reason you died.” I let out a huff of frustration. “While you were saving the little dog, he ran away?”
Nate gives a surprised laugh and touches the place on his chest that last night bled so profusely. “I could have died, yes. I don’t really have good taste in guys, but Richie definitely takes the cake as the worst of my boyfriends to date.”
I scoot down in front of Nate and grab his hand while looking into his eyes, because I need him to understand what I’m about to say, and that requires all his attention. “Nate. He left you for dead. That’s abhorrent. His humiliation? The vomiting? That is not enough. In my realm, everyone has the Right to Revenge, and you have most definitely earned it. I will assist you. How shall we exact our revenge?”
Nate swallows, his eyes watching me from behind the thick-rimmed glasses. “Our revenge?”
“Well, I am your guardian, Nate.” Only until I deliver him to Gloombane, but it sounds better this way. It expresses how I feel about him. Nate bites his lip, his eyes luring me in like two whirrs about to consume my shadow, and my soul.
“If this is your attempt to get into my pants, it’s definitely working,” he says and takes a big swig from the bottle.
I grin and squeeze his knees. “Two bats with one stone. What would make Richie suffer most? Shall we burn down this house?”
Nate chuckles. “God, no. That’s the frat house. But if his truck burned down, he’d probably cry,” Nate says and squints, zeroing in on something behind me. I turn to see an oversized vehicle with a small cab in the front and a flat bed behind it.
I am now a man with a purpose. “Is that it? His truck?” I stand up, excitement buzzing in my veins already. I love exacting righteous violence.
Nate snorts. “He’ll be paying it off forever but was too cheap to insure it. It’s like he’s asking for trouble.”
I don’t understand the meaning fully but I pull on Nate’s hand and finish my beer in several big gulps. Maybe I do like it. “Come. Let’s ruin it.” I take a big swing and throw the empty bottle at the truck.
Nate stalls, staring at me with the eyes of a startled fawn. Oh, how I want to let him curl up in my arms. “We can’t—”
“Of course we can. You have the Right to Revenge,” I tell him and pull him along toward the vehicle. Two figures watch us from across the street while I focus, but I don’t pay them any mind.
Shadowy spikes grow all over my chest and arms as I draw my sword, then, without further ado, I ram myself into the side of the truck, which gives an undulating cry. Spurred on by the excitement of my success, I jump on the elevated front of the vehicle and smash the large window with my sword. Laughter erupts from my chest when I stomp on the metal cover. The vehicle gives under my weight, and as the sheet of metal dips, something inside it wheezes like a beast releasing its last breath.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” shouts someone.
I stall for only a moment, sword in hand. “They have guards?”
Nate steps back, stares toward the building where we’ve been so recently, then at me, and then tosses the bottle of beer inside the truck through the broken window.
“Call the cops!” someone shouts while a group of men in costume gathers in the faint glow of the porch, gesturing toward us.
“You’re dead, Nate!”
“Fudge…” my human mutters and slides his fingers around my calf, tugging on it when one of the guards leaps off the porch and leads the party toward us.
I jump back to the ground. “These humans are no match for me,” I announce, drunk on excitement, but Nate grabs my arm.