Twisted Heathens: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (Blackwood Institute Book 1) by J Rose

Author:J Rose [Rose, J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-09-02T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Four

Kade

Holy Night by Landon Tewers

Crouched behind my dad’s vintage Porsche 911, I’m well hidden from sight as I spark up a cigarette. Taking a long drag, I blow the smoke out and my body begins to relax. It burns my lungs but I don’t care, I need the relief right now. I’m not much of a smoker, but when you’re surrounded by stuck up assholes commenting on shit that’s none of their business, it’s needed. Why the hell did I think coming home was a good idea?

“Kade! You out here?”

My head falls between my legs as I sigh, hoping that she’ll give up. There’s no such luck as Cece peers around the car, eyes landing on me. She scoffs and sits down by my side, her hand held out to demand a drag on my cigarette.

“Come on, give it up. You know Mum and Dad don’t let me.”

“Fine,” I grumble, passing it off to my baby sister.

Where Hudson is adopted, Cece is my sister by blood. She’s the only one out of all of them that I can stand to be around. Down to earth and level-headed in a way our parents really aren’t.

“Was it what Uncle Terrence said?” she guesses.

I manage a nod.

“Fuck him. He has no right to say shit about Hudson or his life choices. What happened to blood is thicker than water, huh? Stupid old bastard.”

I snatch the cigarette back, giving her a shrug. “He’ll just wheel out the tolerance card when it suits him. We all know what he really thinks of Hudson. Doesn’t give him the right to talk smack about him in front of the entire family though.”

“True, but least he isn’t trying to act like he actually cares.”.

I guess that would be worse, at least we can rely on him to be a cunt. We sit in silence until the smoke is done, staring out across the foggy grounds surrounding our family mansion. Seven acres of grass, trees and horses line the estate, with a giant circular driveway to fit Dad’s extensive car collection. The house itself is a million-pound monstrosity, full of antique crap that Mum proudly collects and displays, as if to suggest that her days as a housewife actually amount to anything.

I hate it here.

I hate everything about this life, and the expectations that come with it. I’m aware how much of a privileged shit that makes me sound. But the truth is, I’d rather be fucking poor and in control of my own destiny than in this prison of superficiality. Controlled by other people’s plans and ideals, trying to defend my rejected adoptive brother to relatives whose kids attended Oxbridge and boast several doctorates.

“How’s boarding school?” I sling an arm around my sister.

“Crap as usual, I hate it there so much. Can’t wait to graduate, but now Mum won’t let me apply to art school. Apparently that’s what, and I quote, ‘bums and lowlifes do to pay for their skank addiction and shitty apartments.’ No joke, those were her exact words.

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