Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
One of the doors is propped open with a football, and she nudges it to lead me inside. Music thumps from inside, and as soon as we walk in I’m assaulted with numerous sounds, sights, and smells. The space is already crowded even though by school standards, it's still pretty early. I’m tempted to look anywhere but at the people in attendance, but that would be awkward as hell, so I look up and scan the crowd.
A good majority of the partygoers dance on the makeshift dance floor, red plastic cups in hand, while others linger at the edges, a guy or girl glued to their side. Not what I was expecting. Someone slips in behind us, bumping into me, and I skitter out of the way, in turn bumping Bel and causing us both to teeter.
A pair of strong arms circle her waist, dragging her backward into an ironclad chest. Instantly she relaxes into Drew’s embrace, and it’s like he's an envelope and she's the love letter tucked inside. Nuzzling the side of her neck, he whispers something into the shell of her ear that makes her smile.
Jeez, watching them makes me feel like I’m watching some sappy rom-com. I’m happy for her, though. The best love stories are the most hard-fought.
Turning away from them, I scan the crowd once more. My gaze stops on a man who’s sitting on a throne across the room. Okay, not a throne but a huge, ornate chair. I find it hard to breathe when I notice those familiar green eyes of his, the same eyes that haunt me in my dreams. He’s staring at me, legs splayed wide, leaning on the hand he has propped up on the arm of the chair. His hair is disheveled, and he looks bored out of his mind, but it’s hard to tell if he really is or not since that’s his usual expression.
He looks away, his gaze cutting from mine as a girl crosses in front of his path and then settles into his lap, grinding herself against his groin. My cheeks heat as if I have a reason to be embarrassed. Yep. This is exactly as I've always pictured him. A king sitting on his throne, giving no thought to the rest of us peasants.
No. I can’t stand to see him like that. Not when I know what lies beneath the surface, hidden under that cruelty and emotionless smile.
Without giving him another ounce of attention, I turn and head toward the kitchen to find something to drink. If I’m going to survive this party, I’m not doing it sober.
25
Sebastian
The party is already in full swing when I walk through the front doors of The Mill house. Lee is sitting on the counter, shirtless, sipping a beer. Aries is just outside the kitchen with a girl wrapped around his waist.
As soon as Lee spots me across the room, he hops off the counter and cuts through the crowd, making a beeline right for me. “You made it. I was sure I'd have to come back out to your house and harass you again to get you out here, but I’m glad I didn’t.”
I sigh. “Is there any purpose for this party, or is it just the usual debauchery?”
Lee quirks a brow and nudges me with his shoulder. “Once upon a time, you loved this debauchery.” Then waving over at the throne pulled out for these types of events, he continues, “Drew is coming later with Bel. I doubt we'll see much of them, so you get to lord over the underlings tonight. Take your seat and try to relax a little; you don’t always have to be so serious.”
With a grin, he shoves a bottle of cheap brown liquor into my grasp, and I stroll over to the chair, knowing it's useless to argue with him. Lee is used to getting what he wants, and if I sulk around all night, he’ll only make his presence more defined. I step onto the platform and throw myself into the wooden throne. It's hard and uncomfortable, but I’ve sat on worse.
I twist the tip of the liquor bottle off and bring it to my lips, tipping back the contents into my mouth. I take a couple of gulps, letting it warm my insides. I set the bottle on the arm of the chair and strip the hoodie I’m wearing off over my head.
I barely have the fabric out of my line of sight when a huge pair of tits fills my vision.
“Sebastian. It's so good to see you,” a girl coos.
Hmm, fuck. I don’t remember her name. It's not really surprising to me. I don’t see a name or even a face when I fuck them. They’re more of a means to an end, an outlet for my twisted fantasies. I search through my memory, and when recognition fails to take root in my eyes, she releases a huff of frustration.