Sing Sweet Nightingale Read Online Free

paradise and pretty promises? I can’t be the only one. And J.R. can’t be the only collateral damage in this war they’re waging against us.
    But I can try to make sure he’s the last.
    As all-powerful as these demons seem, they can be taken out. I’m proof of that. If I can find a way back into that world, maybe I can wage a war of my own. Or at least find a way to shut down those portals for good.
    It sounds like a suicide mission, but right now I don’t care. There’s nothing left for me here anyway. I just have to find a way to make J.R.’s sacrifice mean something.
    I have to make sure what happened to us never happens again.

 
    THREE MONTHS LATER

Two
    Mariella
    Sunday, August 24 – 12:00 AM
    I grip the horse’s mane tight and urge her faster.
    Already outpacing the wind blowing across the lake, she becomes a streak of white, her hooves cracking against the ground like thunderbolts. I rise and fall with each stride. As impossibly fast as we’re flying, as hard as I’m pushing her, and as synchronized as we are tonight, it doesn’t matter.
    Orane is about to catch up with me.
    “Is that the best you can do?” he shouts as his chestnut stallion pulls even with my white mare. Grinning, Orane kicks his steed to greater speeds, galloping slightly ahead.
    Grinding my teeth, I grip my mare’s sides between my knees and lean down across her neck, pressing myself against her to match her movements. I thought cutting across the lavender field would give me the edge I need, but Orane is better. And this is his world. He created it. No matter how much time I’ve spent here over the past ten years, I won’t ever know this place like he does. And Orane never lets me win.
    “Faster,” I whisper into my mare’s ear.
    The willow tree is the finish line, and it’s already in sight. My mare puts on one last valiant burst of speed, jumping a creek that feeds the lake and crushing the forgetme-nots beneath her when she lands. The sweet fragrance fills the air. I hardly notice it. My focus is locked on the first branch of the willow tree.
    “Fast, Mariella. But not fast enough,” Orane calls as he guides his stallion into a tight turn, tagging the branch with his hand and claiming victory with a wide grin. His violet eyes dance, and his long auburn hair flies around his face.
    I slap the branch mere seconds later, but it might as well be hours. Even so, I can’t keep from smiling as Orane pulls his stallion up onto its hind legs and vaults from the saddle like a circus performer.
    “One of these nights, I’ll find a way to beat you,” I say as I slide off the back of my mare. She nuzzles my neck and whinnies, snuffling softly against my skin as she slowly vanishes.
    “You almost won that time.” Orane rests his hands on my shoulders and presses a kiss to my neck.
    I close my eyes and lean against his chest, but the shivers running over my skin as his fingers trace patterns on my bare arms can’t distract me from the blatant lie of his statement.
    “It wasn’t even close.”
    “It was closer than before.” His cheek presses against mine, and I feel him smile.
    He’s right, but at the same time, he isn’t. For ten years, we’ve played every game known to man and many no one on Earth has heard of. He always wins. It’s usually by a slim margin, but—no. Actually, it’s always by a slim margin. Like he’s holding himself back to make me think I have a chance of beating him.
    From anyone else, it’d be patronizing. From Orane?
    It’s a good thing I can’t resist a challenge. I smile and turn in his arms, sliding my hands up and around his neck. In a loose white shirt open to the chest, black pants, and boots, he looks like a pirate. Or the hero on the cover of one of my mother’s romance novels.
    “If I asked you to let me win one night, would you?” I run my fingers through his hair, relishing the satin-like softness of the strands.
    “You might never forgive me if I did,” he says.
    Smiling, I