Gods of the Dead (Rising Book 1) by Tracey Ward Read Free Book Online Page B

lay with me ,” I chuckle.
    “Is that okay?”
    I lift my arm and wrap it around her shoulders, letting her get more comfortable. “Doesn’t seem like I have much choice.”
    “Are you not a cuddler, Vin?” she asks, her voice tired but laughing.
    “No, and neither are you.”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “Since when?”
    “Since I’m sober. So in a way, this is all your fault.”
    “Hmm.”
    I look over her head at the tablet propped up and facing me. It’s broadcasting the feed from the security cameras all over the property and as I watch it I catch myself lazily running my fingertips up and down her arm. Her skin is so soft it’s stupid. It’s unnatural and sweet smelling and I realize as I touch her that I’ve never done this. I’ve never just been with a girl. It’s not great, but it’s not the worst either.
    “I can’t get ahold of any of my friends,” she says quietly. “Even the ones who answered me earlier have disappeared.”
    “Maybe the lines are jammed. I’m sure a lot of people are calling and texting.”
    “Maybe,” she agrees, obviously unconvinced. “What about you? Do you have any friends or family out there?”
    “Yeah.”
    She waits for me to elaborate, but I don’t. “Who?” she pushes.
    “My dad.”
    “That’s it?”
    “That’s it.”
    “Are you worried about him?”
    “No,” I sigh, closing my eyes and getting ready for the fallout. “I hope he’s dead.”
    She sits up slightly to look down at me. “Are you serious?”
    “Dead serious.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I hate him,” I answer plainly.
    “Why?”
    “He’s a piece of shit and the world would be a better place without him.”
    She looks down at me for a long time, letting that soak in. Eventually she lays back down. “Okay,” she says slowly, letting it go. “What about your mom? What happened to her?”
    “I don’t know and I don’t care.”
    “Jesus, Vin.”
    I chuckle. “Hey, you asked.”
    “Still, though.”
    “She left when I was born. Dumped me with the deadbeat drug addict who she couldn’t stand to be around anymore. She wasn’t exactly Mother of the Year.” My smile fades as I clench my jaw until it hurts, trying to bite back the words. The memories. But I can’t. “She probably would have stayed if my dad wasn’t so worthless. He was hardly ever around. He left me with the neighbors half the time while he went off and got loaded or gambled his welfare away and if they weren’t willing to take me, he’d bring in the whores he was sleeping with. Crackheads who crashed with us and tossed me a handful of Cheerios when they remembered. I learned to take care of myself real quick because that fucker was never going to step up and do it, and when I was fourteen I left. I fit everything I owned in my old beat up backpack, lifted all of his cash from his wallet, and I left.”
    Sienna doesn’t reply for a long time. The air around us is too thick to hear her even if she did, the venom in my voice dripping from the walls. Pooling in our ears. I’ve only ever told that story to Wright before because he grew up pretty much the same way and he could understand, and now as I lie here in a million dollar mansion with a girl who spends more money on going to the salon in one afternoon than I do on food for a week, I wonder why I bothered telling her.
    “When my mom died my dad stopped spending time with me,” she says suddenly. “He started taking more trips across the country or out of it. He wouldn’t stay in the same room as me. I think it’s because I look like her. It was hard for him, but it was hard for me too. Finally I stopped caring. Of course that’s when he started trying again. He was getting over it, over her, but I was already over him.”
    “You still feel like you’re over him?”
    “No,” she answers grumpily. “Now I wish he was here. What about you? Are you over your dad?”
    I want to tell her yeah, of course I am. I want to say it and have it be true, but I know