Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“What about now, hmmm?” His voice came to the back of my neck. “You want this one?”
I shook my head. “No. Not this one.”
Shiloh
The room feels the same. There is the corner of the bed, the nightstands, and the tall dresser that sits opposite. Everything is familiar. I’m asleep, right? Or am I awake? I try to turn my body, but it won’t move. Stuck in a paralysis of confusion, I panic. Oh God. Why can’t I move? Why does everything look real, but it isn’t? Am I dreaming?
No. I’m not. This is real.
I try again, attempting to roll over onto my back, but nothing happens.
A dark shadow passes me, and my insides twist with fear. I need to run. Sweat spills down the side of my face. I begin counting down from ten. Why? Why can’t I close my eyes? Shut myself off from what I don’t want to see. I try to close them again, but a pale face zips right to mine, and I scream—launching off the bed in a pool of sweat, swiping my face with my hand. The silk sheets beneath me stick to my body, but my heart is still pitter-pattering in my chest. What the fuck was that? I’ve heard of sleep paralysis before—is that what just happened?
My phone lights up on the nightstand, the same one I just saw moments ago, only it seems different. I swipe it and open the new text from Cooper.
I love you, but I’m not coming in there if you’re seeing ghosts. You know I don’t do haunted shit.
Rolling my eyes, I shove the sheets off my body when I read the time. Four a.m. The perfect time to be out on the water. You do know this house is in the top three of the most haunted houses in the United States, right? Maybe this is a bad time to remind my best friend that this house shouldn’t still be standing. Maybe that’s what that was. One of the ghosts that walks these halls paying me a visit.
Weird.
Would really appreciate it if they didn’t do it again.
I slide open one of the drawers and once again see clothes inside. Taking out a swimsuit, I tie up the sides of the briefs and knot the bikini top in the middle. I already know expecting to see a suit in here is asking for a bit much, and any second I spend in here is one less out there, so I open the bedroom door, ignoring the casting of shadows on the walls from the hall lights.
I’m entering the kitchen area when I see Sparrow already in there, leaning against the counter. He’s wearing gray sweats and no shirt, and for the first time since meeting him, I get a glimpse of what is beneath the Armani suits. His abs pull in together when he shifts position, creating two perfect creases that cut down and dip beneath the drawstring of his pants. A faded old scar runs from one hip, up to the side of his shoulder, and suddenly the god-like body doesn’t matter. I want to know what the scar means. How it happened. He doesn’t have as many tattoos as Dion—most people don’t have as many tattoos as Dion—but he has one full sleeve, what looks like a chapel over his right pec, and script over his ribcage that leads to the sparrow over his neck.
“Hungry?” His voice is low, enough to feel the tone vibrate through my bones.
I clear my throat. His hair is scruffy, sticking up all over the place, and for once in my life, I wish I didn’t come down here to surf. I should have stayed in bed. He obviously just rolled out of bed and—stop.
“No, just had a bad dream.”
His blue eyes fall down my body, and I catch myself tracing the perfect lines of his lips. “And now you’re going out?”
“Yeah.” I take a few steps forward. “I need it…”
His head tilts. I really wish he didn’t do that. Tapping his finger against the counter, he pushes off slightly, resting on the kitchen island. The kitchen itself is old. The whole house needs a refurb. The thought of that is crushing because I know how much Mom would have loved to do it.
“We have to head away for a bit tomorrow.”
I step around the kitchen counter, watching him closely out of the corner of my eye. Heat rolls over me in waves, like he is setting off a frequency that only my body senses. I know I shouldn’t be talking to him, and I know I shouldn’t technically be here. This man set me on a wild goose chase, all to end on a secluded island. But I don’t have many options right now, at least not until I turn eighteen and can legally be considered an adult. Hades Hollow is my home. What if I were shoved into a system that was way the fuck away from here?