Read Online The Sons of Satrina: A Sons of Satrina Novel by Kristan Belle - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kristan Belle
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face.
“Do you need a tissue?” Laughter bubbled in his voice and Jackson could feel his hackles start to rise.
Holding his ground, Jackson glared back. “Move out of the way, Denver.”
“Aww, what’s the matter, big man? What you going to do if I don’t?” Denver paused for dramatic effect, “Cry?”
Oh, crap. So, that’s what this was all about. Jackson’s reaction to the death of their leader. Denver was even more stupid than he looked if he was willing to make a big deal out of this. It wasn’t lik e he felt this way on purpose. If he’d have had a choice, he wouldn’t have felt anything but rage. Bad move on Denver’s part. Real bad.
“I. Said. Move.”
Denver puffed up his chest a little more and turned to grin at Lewis who was standing by his shoulder, trying his hardest to imitate Denver’s stance. He failed miserably, the poor boy. Lewis was one of the unfortunate few who didn’t naturally possess the physique of a warrior. He was a skinny little runt who didn’t look like he could fight his way out of a wet paper bag. The poor kid looked more like fourteen than eighteen. Turning back to Jackson, the grin on Denver’s face sort of froze in place and he seemed to deflate a little.
Jackson turned his head slightly to check out his peripheral vision. Something had to be up. There had to be a reason for the subtle change in the douche bags face. And surprise, surprise, what did he see? A group of about fifteen trainee warriors of all ages, all standing behind him, and Jackson recogni sed them all as some who had been affected in the same way that he had been over Bartholomew’s death.
“You wa nt to make something of it?” a gruff voice just behind Jackson’s left shoulder barked at Denver, who now looked like he wished that he could crawl back under his slimy little rock.
“You start on one, you start on us all.” another voice added.
Denver looked like he had lost his voice, and most of his confidence along with it. And poor little Lewis looked ready to piss his pants.
A large trainee warrior, who looked like he was possibly in his last year of training stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jackson. “I really think that this is the time that you should walk away, am I right?”
Ja ckson couldn’t open his mouth. He was in total shock that Denver had pulled this stunt in the first place, and even more so that he had the backing of all of these warriors that he had never even spoken to before. He could happily fight his own battles, but this was what the life of a warrior was like, having each other’s back.
Denver turned to check on Lewis and found the space next to him empty - Lewis had already hot footed it out of there. The look on his face when he finally realised that he was on his own was a pure classic.
Turning back to the warriors and looking a bit like a rab bit caught in the headlights, Denver muttered something inaudible and turned tail and trotted out of there as fast as he could.
Jackson was totally lost for words. Looking around at each and ev ery one of them in turn, each nodded or bumped fists or clapped him on the shoulder, showing him that he wasn’t alone in this feeling. That he wasn’t alone here in this school. They didn’t judge him for feelings that were out of his control.
This was what he had been looking forward to about becoming a warri or. The extended family. It was only his third day here and yet he already had all these people that he could turn to. It was something more than friendship. Something much more deeply ingrained into each warrior. The bond between warriors was indescribable. They would fight to the death for one another, take a bullet, jump into the line of fire for one another. Even Denver would be protected like he was family, no matter how much of a dick he was. He was one of them, after all.
“Hey, man.” Jase jabbed him in the ribs and
“Do you need a tissue?” Laughter bubbled in his voice and Jackson could feel his hackles start to rise.
Holding his ground, Jackson glared back. “Move out of the way, Denver.”
“Aww, what’s the matter, big man? What you going to do if I don’t?” Denver paused for dramatic effect, “Cry?”
Oh, crap. So, that’s what this was all about. Jackson’s reaction to the death of their leader. Denver was even more stupid than he looked if he was willing to make a big deal out of this. It wasn’t lik e he felt this way on purpose. If he’d have had a choice, he wouldn’t have felt anything but rage. Bad move on Denver’s part. Real bad.
“I. Said. Move.”
Denver puffed up his chest a little more and turned to grin at Lewis who was standing by his shoulder, trying his hardest to imitate Denver’s stance. He failed miserably, the poor boy. Lewis was one of the unfortunate few who didn’t naturally possess the physique of a warrior. He was a skinny little runt who didn’t look like he could fight his way out of a wet paper bag. The poor kid looked more like fourteen than eighteen. Turning back to Jackson, the grin on Denver’s face sort of froze in place and he seemed to deflate a little.
Jackson turned his head slightly to check out his peripheral vision. Something had to be up. There had to be a reason for the subtle change in the douche bags face. And surprise, surprise, what did he see? A group of about fifteen trainee warriors of all ages, all standing behind him, and Jackson recogni sed them all as some who had been affected in the same way that he had been over Bartholomew’s death.
“You wa nt to make something of it?” a gruff voice just behind Jackson’s left shoulder barked at Denver, who now looked like he wished that he could crawl back under his slimy little rock.
“You start on one, you start on us all.” another voice added.
Denver looked like he had lost his voice, and most of his confidence along with it. And poor little Lewis looked ready to piss his pants.
A large trainee warrior, who looked like he was possibly in his last year of training stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jackson. “I really think that this is the time that you should walk away, am I right?”
Ja ckson couldn’t open his mouth. He was in total shock that Denver had pulled this stunt in the first place, and even more so that he had the backing of all of these warriors that he had never even spoken to before. He could happily fight his own battles, but this was what the life of a warrior was like, having each other’s back.
Denver turned to check on Lewis and found the space next to him empty - Lewis had already hot footed it out of there. The look on his face when he finally realised that he was on his own was a pure classic.
Turning back to the warriors and looking a bit like a rab bit caught in the headlights, Denver muttered something inaudible and turned tail and trotted out of there as fast as he could.
Jackson was totally lost for words. Looking around at each and ev ery one of them in turn, each nodded or bumped fists or clapped him on the shoulder, showing him that he wasn’t alone in this feeling. That he wasn’t alone here in this school. They didn’t judge him for feelings that were out of his control.
This was what he had been looking forward to about becoming a warri or. The extended family. It was only his third day here and yet he already had all these people that he could turn to. It was something more than friendship. Something much more deeply ingrained into each warrior. The bond between warriors was indescribable. They would fight to the death for one another, take a bullet, jump into the line of fire for one another. Even Denver would be protected like he was family, no matter how much of a dick he was. He was one of them, after all.
“Hey, man.” Jase jabbed him in the ribs and