Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
A part of me knows that this is a dreamwalk—not a kind I’ve ever experienced before, but the gold is like the purple. It takes me places.
The brightness slowly dims and as it does this, I start to make out shapes. A man with his back to me. He is tall and cut with muscles. His blond hair is shoulder-length and the ends curl up just a little. But while it is a very nice back, what really catches my attention is the wings.
Well, the buds of wings. Like Ryet’s. But this is not Ryet.
The man looks over his shoulder at me, scowling. “What do you want?”
He can see me?
He turns all the way around, facing me, and I realize this is Paul. Not the Paul I know, but another version of him. Something much, much younger. And if the wing buds are any kind of indication, he is newly born. Second-born, I think Ryet calls it. Newly second-born. Paul’s feet are bare and he’s only wearing a pair of loose-fitting linen pants.
“Do you know who I am?” My voice is surprisingly calm.
Young Paul snarls at me. “A ghost. A demon. The Dark Slut. I don’t give a fuck who you are. Get out.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that easy.” I sound very in control. And as soon as I think these words, I am in control.
“Why not?” He’s still growling at me. Eyes narrowed down into thin slits. He’s angry and control is something this version of him has yet to master.
“Because I didn’t choose to come here, Paul.”
He tries not to show his shock when I say his name, but I can tell this revelation unsettles him. “Who are you?”
“I’m Syrsee. We’re… acquaintances. In the future.”
His brow furrows, then he looks over his shoulder. I glance in that direction too. And this is when I realize we’re in a room. Something old-looking. Walls made of stone, elaborate cornices made of plaster, and marble slabs for the floor. There is a large pool of water in the middle of the room. That’s what he’s standing in front of. But his glance right now is in the direction of a door. It’s closed, and this seems to be what he was checking, because then he looks back at me. “What do you want?”
Torches placed at regular intervals along the stone walls make flickering shadows across my body as I step away from the darkness. I’m naked. He and I realize this at the same time and he takes a long, casual look down and back up my body before meeting my gaze again, giving me his full attention. Which I do not waste.
“How old are you?” Which seems like a stupid way to start this conversation, but I don’t feel in control of this question. The words come out like they’ve already been spoken. Like I’ve been here before. Like I’m just playing out a memory.
“Two hours.”
“Hours? But your wings—they are already sprouting.”
He reaches up and over his shoulder, like he’s trying to feel the little bumps pushing through the skin back there. “They itch.”
“Would you like me to wash them for you?”
His eyebrows go up in surprise. And I have to admit, this young version of Paul—a version that displays confusion, and hesitation, and vulnerability—well, it’s a good look for him. Once again, his eyes travel down my body, then back up to meet my gaze. He doesn’t smile, but he does wave a hand at the large pool of water—which I realize now is a bath. Something Roman, probably. “Join me then.”
His hesitation is gone. He might be a newborn vampire, but he’s still Paul. And I get the feeling that Paul and sex are synonymous. Wings growing out of his back might still be a mystery to him, but a naked woman in his bathroom is not.
This is when I realize I’m about to bathe with the monster and the inner voice—the one that is supposed to caution me from doing stupid things—is snapping into action. What the fuck are you doing, Syrsee? Go back!
But I didn’t come here just to go back. And anyway, this has already happened.
I walk towards him, then past him. His body turns with me and I can practically feel his gaze as he watches me slowly step down into the pool, descending until the warm water is up past my breasts.
That’s when I turn to face him again. He has dropped the pants he was wearing and his cock is long and hard. His eyes lock with mine as he descends down the steps and into the water as well.
He bites his lip and a little stream of blood drips out.
Immediately, the cravings inside me come back to life. I want that blood much, much more than I want sex or answers.
But the weird thing is, I don’t think he did this on purpose. This realization is the only thing holding me back. He’s not the Paul I know. He’s not in control at all right now. He’s not tempting me, he’s just… nervous, I think.