Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Nocturne Castle seemed to have anticipated this somehow because when we opened the door to what had previously been a bare room, we saw two new beds and two wardrobes inside. Which seemed to answer any questions we might have about if Lachlan would be admitted or not.
After everyone had eaten, we all settled down in front of the fire and spent the rest of the evening getting to know each other. The rest of my coven seemed to take to Bran—who they already pretty much knew—and Lachlan, right away. It wasn’t like we had invited two strangers into our group—it was like the two Fae guys were old friends, finally coming home.
It was the same way I had felt when Megan had entered our group, back when it was just me and Kaitlyn and Avery—Bran and Lachlan just clicked into place. It felt right to have both of them there and I caught myself looking over at the two of them—the golden head and the raven one—more than once, as they spoke to the other members of my extended coven.
The Castle seemed to understand what had happened as well. Just as it had provided a place for both guys to sleep, it had also subtly enlarged our common room. There were more worn, overstuffed chairs to sit on now and the ratty but comfortable old couches now held twice as many people as they had before. Despite the fact that the whole gang was there—Avery, Kaitlyn, Megan, Griffin, Ari, Saint, Jalli, and myself, including Bran and Lachlan, it didn’t feel a bit crowded.
They belong here, I found myself thinking more than once, as I watched the easy way Bran interacted with my Coven-mates and the droll way Lachlan made them laugh with his dry, sarcastic humor.
But what I was really thinking was, they belong with me.
Though I didn’t dare to admit it, even to myself.
43
Sunday I was up bright and early to go back to our apartment and gather all the clothes I wanted Avery to alter for me. I didn’t bother to wake up anyone else—not even Bran and Lachlan. After all the craziness of the day before, I wanted a little time to myself. Besides, I thought the ride back and forth to the apartment might clear my head.
I got on my bike and was there in no time—Frostproof is pretty small, after all, and there was absolutely no traffic that early on a Sunday morning. The First Baptist Church—which is the main church in town—didn’t even start services until nine and it was barely seven when I pedaled into the parking lot of our rundown apartments.
I expected to be able to slip in, grab my clothes, and slip out again with no problem. I only stopped for a moment to check on my mom. Your adopted mom, a little voice in my head reminded me, but I pushed it away.
I had no idea who my real parents were and she had taken me in and raised me. She was still my mom, I told myself defiantly as I quietly opened her door to check on her.
She was still asleep, with a cigarette smoldering in the ashtray beside her bed. I grimaced as I tiptoed in and smashed it out. I had begged her not to smoke in bed—what if she fell asleep with a lit cigarette and set the whole apartment complex on fire? But she was so addicted, she couldn’t even seem to stop that particular dangerous habit.
“Oh, Mom,” I said softly, as I bent down to kiss her sleeping cheek. “I wish so much that you could stop smoking! I’d give just about anything to make you stop!”
My mom stirred in her sleep and mumbled something I didn’t catch. Then she rolled over and started snoring softly.
With a sigh, I closed her door as quietly as I had opened it and went to gather my clothes.
I didn’t have a lot—it wasn’t like there was much money to throw around on my wardrobe. But there was enough to fill one large trash bag, which should hopefully fit in the basket of my bike as I rode back to school.
I gnawed my thumbnail nervously as I wondered if I ought to try and find a piece of string or rope to tie the bag down. I didn’t usually bite my nails—back when I was a plain-Jane, my hands had been the prettiest part of me and I liked to keep my nails smooth and neat. But now my thumbnail seemed to find my teeth or maybe my teeth found my thumbnail. Either way, I had almost chewed off the whole nail before I noticed what I was doing.
“Damn it!” I muttered, when I looked down and saw the damage I had done to my formerly neat nail. Now why had I done that? The clothes should be fine with just a little careful balancing. I was being silly.