Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
I would have told them to get out in more blunt terms, or even not accepted their order ten minutes before closing time, but I’ve been reprimanded for my attitude issues several times already. I can’t lose this job with no other plan for survival. Because how else am I to earn my keep in a world so strange and unfamiliar? Lord Kyran did me a favor by securing a meager room and work for me, and if I’m ever to earn his forgiveness and have him end my banishment prematurely, I cannot openly scorn his gifts.
Resigned to my fate, I take hold of a broom and approach the booth, since I’ve been told cleaning up is a universal and polite way to send patrons home. I’ve only been here two months, but all the manual labor has already made my hands rougher, and exhaustion sends me to sleep as soon as I lie down, but I am safe, and as long as I keep my head down—
“But just look at that short king,” a raspy voice says, and one of the teens in the booth flashes me a smile. He’s wearing a loose pink T-shirt and clothes that are flashier than those of the other males at the table. A rubber bracelet featuring various shades of blue and green jitters on his wrist as he waves at me. “He just appeared out of nowhere this spring,” he adds, never taking his eyes off me.
“You should ask him out,” a young girl says, slurping her milkshake and poking the guy with her elbow.
I throw daggers at them with my glare. For some humans, my looks have been a huge point of interest, but entertaining that is the last thing on my mind. The flashy guy shifts to the edge of the booth, while all his friends watch on, munching on the last of their fries.
“Will you be going to Black Tree High once the school year starts? Or are you homeschooled or something?” he asks as the girl snorts so hard milkshake comes out of her nose.
They are all repulsive. I couldn’t care less about their appearance since they’re overgrown children, but everything about their attitude, demeanor, their lack of manners, and basic respect for others is so agitating to me that if I had access to shadowcraft, I would have—
What? My talent for wielding shadow is so painfully underdeveloped I couldn’t dream of using it to teach all of them a lesson even if I didn’t have a power-blocking collar around my neck. Then again, I could grow sharp claws out of shadow, and if I made sure to slice through an artery…
I straighten up, trying to seem taller, which is pretty futile and we all know it. No wonder they are mistaking me for their peer, because at five-foot-two, I’m hardly an imposing figure.
“Is there a reason for this questioning?” I ask, then make a point of taking a long glance at the burger-shaped clock on the wall.
One of the boys rolls his eyes at his friend and pushes a cold fry into his mouth. “Jeez, aren’t there other guys willing to suck your dick on that—”
“Grindr,” the Milkshake Girl says and sucks on her damp paper straw again.
“Yeah, that.”
I don’t know what ‘Grindr’ is, but I am most definitely not about to suck anyone’s dick. Especially not some rude, childish fuck’s. Still, I sense my cheeks warm, and my pale complexion surely reveals that I’m blushing. The flush is an absolute abomination on my face, and doesn’t accurately communicate my feelings on the matter at all.
The guy in pink groans. “But he’s so cuuuute.”
“I would strongly disagree,” I say through gritted teeth, clenching the broom harder. “You do not know me, and you have no idea what I am capable of. A child picking roses in the moonlight is ‘cute’. A bunch of newborn bats feasting on coralberries are ‘cute’. A moth desperately hitting a window to get to light is ‘cute’. I resent the very notion of being anything like those pathetic critters.”
They stare at me, then all erupt with laughter at the same moment. Mockery hits me like sour rain, and as fury boils under my skin, I consider whether the broom in my hands could do some damage. If I tried really hard, I could make at least one of those children bleed for disrespecting me.
But before I can make my move (and lose my job for it), Kurt, my co-worker, steps close and puts his hand on my shoulder. “You flirting with underage boys again?” he asks, winking at me.
I want to yell about how incorrectly he’s interpreted this pathetic situation, but one of the girls speaks first.
“Oh, how old are you?” she asks, as if that meant anything.
“I am twenty-five, if you must know.”