The Master and The Marionette by Brandi Elise Szeker EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Authors: Brandi Elise Szeker
- Language: English
- Genre: Dystopian Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Greystone
K . G. Vanished. A memory acting as my only comfort
in the presence of this—stranger.
I have met a third alter.
Greystone.
But Dessin always made me believe there were only two. Is it even
possible to have multiple personalities living in one mind? I have more
questions than ever.
Greystone cocks his head, waiting for me to respond to the bomb he’s
just dropped.
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“Dessin didn’t tell me there were more,” I say out of breath, taking a
step back until I hit the wooden panel of the tree house doorway.
He licks his lips, smiling down at me as though I’m a meal he’s been
waiting to eat.
“No, I don’t suppose that feigner is much for sharing secrets, is he?” His
accent is refined, like a stroke of cursive on fresh parchment.
I shake my head.
A breeze carrying the scent of pine and lavender wafts between us. I fail
at stifling a shiver.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asks.
I study his expression, his posture, the language of his body.
Greystone’s face holds a look of pleasure and mischief. He cocks an
eyebrow, lowers his dark lashes, and wears a sensual smirk. Based on these
details alone, he absolutely is nothing like Kane or Dessin. His posture is
languid and cocky. And he seems to like waving two fingers around while
he speaks.
I swallow. “Well, I don’t know you. Should I be afraid?”
Greystone takes a step back. “If you weren’t frightened by the
manipulative murderer with a bad attitude, then I think you’ll feel safe with
me.” He laughs with a closed mouth, and even the sound differs from
Dessin’s laugh.
I nod to myself. He has a point.
“We do not have any alters that would ever harm you.” A flash of
seriousness crosses his features. Relief washes over me. “As for annoying
you, that’s a different topic altogether.”
My cheeks loosen into a smile. Wow, the asylum would have a field day
if they knew how many people lived inside his head.
“How old are you, Greystone?” I decide I should start asking questions
about the alters I meet. They might see themselves as older, younger, or
perhaps look completely different.
“Thirty-one,” he drawls, voice like luxury bedsheets and warm honey.
“Quite the age gap between you and me, hmm?”
I ignore that innuendo.
“How many alters are there?”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t keep track of those details.”
“What do you keep track of?” I ask.
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