Page 32 of Black Castle

The buddy-reading idea has ended up becoming a ritual—one he didn’t quite anticipate taking so seriously. Yet, here they are, deep into their third book together. And as much as he wants to complain about her obvious disregard for time zones and the simple human need for rest, he never does. Because despite himself, he likes this.

Her messages keep dropping.

Lucan watches, waiting.

She always does this—ramble through text messages like she is thinking out loud, dumping all her frustration onto him in real time. And he will wait. Patiently. Silently. Devotedly. He never really had a problem with waiting. In fact, he has become obsessed with it.

Somewhere along the way, waiting for her messages has turned into some sort of addiction. Every time her name appears on his screen, something unnamed always shifts inside him.

It has been two weeks since they last saw each other in person. A time length too short for two strangers to become so close. But it’s like that innocent coffee date changed something—marked the beginning of whatever is happening between them.

It has just been fourteen days, but it feels like somehow she has carved herself into the marrow of his bones, his existence. And it isn’t because they have spilled secrets to each other, peeled back layers of each other and laid themselves bare to one another. No. It’s because in two weeks, she has spoken to him more than anyone has in the last thirty-two years of his life.

The more her messages pop on his screen, the random memes she always sent that he never really found funny, and her silky voice piercing through the speaker of his phone, the more he sees glimpses of life beyond the one he has lived thus far. A life of color, warmth and laughter.

Lucan still hasn’t figured out what she really is. Why they met or why they are still talking. Why he has become so fixated on her. He doesn’t know what her presence in his life means. But he knows one thing for sure.

She is really beginning to shift the earth beneath his feet. But here is the scariest part. He isn’t scared at all.

His phone buzzes again.

His lips twitch, his hand lifting to adjust his glasses over his eyes. Then he types.

That’s a lie. Well, the author has tricked them, made them believe the talisman is a lifesaver. But it really has no significance other than to make you believe you can go to war and return unscathed.

Lucan’s fingers hover over the screen, itching to type the truth he has been afraid to tell her since they picked up this book.

Rhistel Greenwich is going to die in the next two pages.

Lucan knows this because he has read this book a couple of months ago. He only agreed to read it because she was so excited about it when she found it a few days ago.

He never really cared about happy endings. Never worried about who lived or who died. But she always does. And now he wishes the author would have written the book a bit differently.

A quiet exhale leaves him.

Well, he tried his best.

It is about ten minutes later when Lucan’s phone starts vibrating again with messages over and over. The weight of Vivienne’s new emotional state can be felt through the echo of every chime.

Lucan sighs, knowing what it is before even checking. They are currently on the page where the dragon rider, Rhistel Greenwich, dies.

Lucan rubs his temple, his finger hovering over the phone, waiting. He can almost hear her voice in his head, rising with frustration, laced with that quiet, dramatic intensity.

His lips twitch.

Lucan exhales. She is so impossible.

A pause. Then another flurry of text.

Lucan drags a hand down his face. Exhaustion weaving into his bones. He just wants to lie down and rest. Yet he is here, listening to her being utterly ridiculous, allowing himself to be caught in the whirlwind of her emotions, letting them bleed into him in ways he has never let anything else.

He is starting to care a little too much. And that is dangerous, reckless. A soldier shouldn’t care too much. And most of all, the Pakhan of a powerful Bratva shouldn’t be caught in a web of emotion.

But here he is, breaking the number one rule.

His fingers still. Something about that last text makes his chest tighten. He finds himself staring at her words, a strange sensation settling over him.

She is right, but not exactly. He actually doesn’t usually feel anything. Nothing at all. But now he is feeling a lot. Way too much. He feels in a way that it’s starting to seem like his body will shut down from the weight of it all.

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