Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
I knew we would succeed this time because we were doing something different with this particular scion.
We had another bloodline ready to go.
The bloodline of his feeder.
The creature that would take nurture my newborn partner and take him into maturity.
And that is where our dear Syrsee comes in.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - SYRSEE
Them. And me.
When I get to the greenhouse building, I pull on the door handle, but it’s locked. “Fuck.” And it’s not some cheap lock, either. Zusi has taught me a few of her tricks over the years. I can pick a simple lock. With… tools. But this this is one of those electric locks that come with a code, so my fantasy of being the Dragon Tattoo girl fades pretty quick.
Now what? Unless they left by some other door, I know they’re inside there and if Paul tells Ryet that I’ve been feeding him—that I’m the Black witch he’s been hunting—he’ll never trust me again.
I mean, I’ve been feeding him my blood.
Of course, I have a good reason for this. He was sick. He really was sick. I saw it. I helped him. I would never…
I just blow air out of my nose, frustrated as I walk around the building. Despite the fact that a good portion of this building is made of glass, I can’t see anything because it’s all steamed up from the inside. Which only reminds me that it’s January in Montana and I’m fucking freezing now. I don’t even have gloves.
I come around the corner and end up right where I started. And I’m just about to walk back up the hill to the cabin when a little bit of lavender slips into the corners of my world, tugging at the threads of my mind and reminding me of something.
There is another way in, after all.
One where I don’t have to worry about picking locks.
I look around, searching for people. There are a few guests on the pathway, but they are not close. So I slip into a little cluster of fir trees to shield myself from the wind and close my eyes, willing the dreamwalk to come to me, instead of me being forced into it.
The foggy lavender haze instantly appears and the ease at which this happens takes me by such surprise, I almost pull back. Almost. But then I take a deep breath, let it out, and begin to picture myself inside the glass walls…
And here I am. Inside. The smell of dirt, and plants, and the faint trace of sulfur surrounds me and mixes with the dreamwalk, making it indistinguishable from reality.
What is happening to my body? Am I just standing there in the firs, looking like a zombie?
A voice carries through the indoor forest and I forget about what’s happening outside this dreamwalk. Because it’s definitely Paul. I follow it, but the voice fades quickly and then disappears.
This building did not look that big on the outside but the interior is like a jungle maze. Dirt pathways. Pebbled pathways. Little bridges made of slatted wood crossing thin streams of water.
The trails intersect every dozen feet, weaving this way and that, forcing me to make continuous choices. Surprise, surprise—this building isn’t as straightforward as it first appeared. The greenhouse is a place to get lost over the course of an afternoon with someone you love. It’s a place to explore and discover as you wander through the ferns and underneath a canopy of palms.
Directly in front of me is a huge wall of giant leaves shaped like elephant ears. I push through them, find more, and push through again. And then I finally find an almost hidden, secret clearing that is thick with mist—both my own lavender one and just normal water too. Because there is a waterfall on the far side of the clearing. It falls down a considerable wall of rocks and splashes into a steaming pool below.
The hot springs. And… fresh water, I guess. To cool it down or dampen the smell, or—
Then I see them. Paul is sitting on the ground under a palm tree. He’s naked, and dripping wet, and holding Ryet in his arms. Ryet is bare on top, his jeans and boots still on. But his pants are open and his dick is hard and running up the length of his stomach.
I blink, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. It’s so… not funny, not cute, but definitely unexpected and weird to see a full-grown man clinging to another as he draws blood out in gulps from the neck.
Paul’s eyes are closed. His head tipped back. Enjoying it. And if I could see his cock underneath Ryet’s body, I know he would be hard. Because he is completely turned on.
Which I can relate to, but am still repulsed by. I know what it feels like to have Ryet sucking on me. It’s sexual, that’s for sure. It’s exciting. And once you do it—once you know that feeling exists—you will do it again if given the chance.