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)
And he is super-hot.
Wolf grunts and steps right back outside “I don’t want to be around for that conversation. Lemme get the tools.”
Dad is the first to lose it, and slams his fist against the table so hard Sylvan flinches. “Your ‘partner’? This is exactly why you always get in trouble. You get a lucky shot escape, and you find yourself a new boy to fuck up your life on the same day?”
“Is that why you never visited?” I ask, meeting his gaze while Mom makes some noise in the kitchen, maybe unwilling to listen to this painful and embarrassing conversation.
“So you’re gay. I get it. In a way,” Father says, towering over us as he makes a convoluted gesture, likely meant to express how little he can imagine being attracted to another male. “But I don’t understand why you stupidly threw away your life for a pretty face. He wasn’t even blood. Who does that?”
Sylvan clears his throat and I’m already dreading how my dad will react to anything he might say. “We already share a bond that will soon be deeper than any blood relation can be.”
He looks like a diamond in mud on the beat-up leather sofa. He radiates beauty, and if only I manage to keep him, I will get to bask in that glow.
Fox sits at the table with one foot on another chair and raises his eyebrows. “Oh, so he’s crazy. Now it all makes sense.”
“Fuck you,” I growl and squeeze Sylvan’s hand, because he might not live quite in the same world as everyone else, but there’s logic to his actions, and when we reach Canada, maybe I can find help for him there?
Father shakes his head. “Nothing to say? The boy who put you behind bars is living a cushy life now. Last I heard, he bought a house on Fire Island.”
Free as a fucking bird and likely barely remembers me.
I rub my face. “Are you two done?”
“I will never be done,” Father growls as the soothing scent of cocoa reaches my nose. “You don’t do those things for people who can ditch you. Only family is worthy of sacrifice. And you don’t understand because you won’t have children, and you always wanted to leave us too. I’m surprised you even bothered to come over.”
“‘Cause he needs something,” Fox helpfully adds, and if I wasn’t holding Sylvan’s trembling fingers, I might be strangling my brother just about now. Does this mean Sylvan’s already making me a better person?
“I can assure you there will be no ditching anyone,” Sylvan says in a confident voice that doesn’t betray nerves the way his hand does. “Sometimes, you have to trust destiny, and it has brought us together for a reason. He will be mine.”
I know how it sounds to their ears, so I’m not surprised when Fox cackles like a hyena, and my father drags his massive hands down his face.
But I fucking love it. My heart tingles as if it were pumping champagne instead of blood. So maybe I have a weakness for pretty boys in trouble, and maybe it’s easy to impress me, but who wouldn’t want to feel special once in a while?
“It’s your own life you’re fucking up again. You are an adult,” Father says as Wolf enters the room with a pair of steel cutters. “We will get you the car, but you will be on your own after that. If this fancy little shit fucks you over, don’t you run to us for help.”
“He won’t,” I say, trying to control the anger flooding my veins.
As I turn to Sylvan, ignoring my father, I notice his expression has changed from the tense attempt at a smile to a cold glare. His pale pink lips have tightened into a tense line, and his blue eyes could cut my father in half if Sylvan really did wield magic. It’s a glimpse at a new side of him, but I’m not sure which one is the mask. The sweet smiles and innocent blushing, or the icy promise of cruelty?
His focus is gone the moment Wolf stands between him and my father with the cutters.
“Okay, lean your neck back against the sofa,” my brother instructs, eyeing the collar. “Is this some new kind of tag? Like an ankle monitor, but fancy?”
I shrug, hoping Wolf will decide he understood me and deal with the damn shackle. As the huge tool touches Sylvan’s neck he squeezes me harder with his sweaty hand, and I kiss the tip of his head as Mom enters bearing two mugs. One’s my favorite, huge and featuring a hawk mid-flight, the other is one of hers, with a view of the mountains.
“Are sandwiches all right?” she asks, offering me the cup of chocolate.
“Can you toast it for him?” Because I learned on the way about Sylvan’s preference for all things crunchy. Yet another adorable feature.