Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
It only rings once before he picks up.
“Finally, something gets your attention enough for you to call,” Yegor says right when he answers.
“Explain.”
“Pretty, isn’t it?”
“What did you do on your own?” I ask in a low, even tone, trying not to show how angry I am while Tate is nearby. I’m not sure if he can hear my conversation from where he’s standing.
“Excuse me? I can’t go have fun hunting without papa Roman out there with me?” Yegor asks. “You’ve been busy. If you’re not going to come to your father’s dinners, or meet with me to talk strategy, then I’m going to take action on my own.”
“We don’t need strategy right now. We need information. Killing random Maletti grunts isn’t going to do anything but piss them off—”
“I want to piss them off. You hate the Maletti family as much as I do.”
I rip off a thick strip of bark from the tree in front of me, tossing it to the ground.
How does Yegor not understand that this is why I am avoiding him?
Part of the reason, at least.
Watching over Tate has been a much more absorbing task than I anticipated, and I’ve been drawn to him more than… anything else in my life.
It’s felt amazing not to think about this.
The Malettis.
The war Yegor seems to want so badly.
“I hate them more than you’re capable of hating anything in the world. I assure you. But I want them fully gone. I don’t want to re-start the war.”
My chest tightens like someone’s tensing a spring inside me.
“Doesn’t seem like you do want them gone, Roman,” Yegor says in my ear. “Seems like you’re too fixated on being a normal college student lately.”
“You have no idea what I am working on.”
“Yet I am working on what matters,” Yegor says. “I promise you I’m doing it for the both of us. You would be so proud of me.”
Yegor’s trying to play at my biggest strength, the strength he could never understand.
Patience.
Yegor doesn’t have it. He can’t understand the concept of letting things happen over time.
Tension coils tighter inside me. The Maletti family are responsible for my mother’s death. My other cousin Kuzma’s death, too. Responsible for nearly killing one of my Onyx Society brothers, just a few months ago, too.
I would piss on the grave of every Maletti who had a hand in killing my mother, and I would do it with pleasure.
Of course I want them scrubbed from the face of the Earth.
But I know good things don’t come from rash action, and that’s all Yegor knows how to do.
“I’ll meet with you at Capp’s Monday night,” I tell him.
“Finally.”
“Don’t meddle in anything more until I talk with you.”
“I only killed a new Maletti grunt, Roman. It was small-time. Just sending a little message, like a card saying I’m still thinking of you.”
“Don’t touch anyone until we talk.”
“I’m my own person,” Yegor tells me, a sudden urgency in his tone. “But I want harmony. I want what you want. I promise you.”
My blood runs cold.
I stare over at Tate, clutching my phone.
He’s bent over in the grass, looking for something in the dark.
And as I watch for another few moments, I realize that he’s picking tiny wildflowers in the lawn, gathering them together to make a little bouquet.
It makes my heart ache with a sudden, deep longing.
That is what life can be like, if it isn’t like mine.
No one deserves a life like this.
“I’m hanging up this phone now,” I tell Yegor. “You will not make another move until we speak.”
I tap the button to hang up and my jaw clenches.
I realize what’s different about the way I’m feeling, now, looking at Tate.
I’m not just angry at Yegor.
I’m also feeling fear.
White-hot, laced with rage. The idea of anything pulling me away from my time with Tate makes me murderous. Even worse, if any of it ends up affecting his safety.
I cross over to him and he holds up his tiny bouquet, smiling proudly.
“Will you go to prom with me?” he asks sweetly, and even though it’s a silly joke, he’s pushing a button in me that he doesn’t realize.
I clutch at the front of his jacket and yank him toward me, closing my lips over his.
I kiss him deeply.
He lets out a surprised little sigh the moment my mouth is on his, and it makes my cock ache under my pants.
He smells like my bedsheets, where he took a catnap right before we left this evening.
His lips taste like my Cognac, which I caught him taking a tiny sip of before we left.
Everything about him conspires against me, swirling around my heart to grip it tight and make it feel like he’s mine.
After his initial surprise, he leans into the kiss, opening his mouth for me and letting his tongue slide over mine. I want so much. I want him tied up for me again. Want to reduce him to a shuddering mess, edge him until he needs to come for me so badly, and then kiss him like this when he does.