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)
But I’m mad that my life is over because of these assholes. It pisses me off.
“Syrsee.” I can hear the worry in Lucia’s voice. All that sarcasm that was there a few moments ago is gone. “What do you have to live for?”
“Excuse me?”
“What? Tell me. Do you have family? Do you have friends?”
“Fuck you.”
“You have nothing. You weren’t born, dear. You were bred. You are food. That’s it. That’s your purpose. And you have a chance to change the world. To rid this realm of monsters. America, at least. There are other witches working on the vampires of the Old World though. And soon—in a matter of months, maybe—the whole world will be free of these abominations. You are literally saving the world from evil. That is the role of the night mare.”
I turn away from her, confused now. Because this sounds like a promise. One where I get nothing in return but some vague satisfaction as I depart this world, knowing that I killed the one thing Paul needed to gain more power.
The sound of me—other me—gagging on blood fills the room. Then more whispers from Paul, trying to soothe me, trying to encourage me to take more and more of his blood.
“You have less than a minute before you get too sick to drink. And then I will disappear, Syrsee. I will go on my way, back into the purple, and I probably won’t be able to guide you again. So it’s up to you now. Will you save the world? Or will you be greedy and shallow and save just yourself?”
Just as this last word comes out of her mouth, the purple disappears and I am on the bed throwing up blood.
“Swallow it, Syrsee.” Paul is pinching my lips closed as he whispers into my ear. “Swallow it. Don’t waste it.”
Blood burbles up my throat and spills out of my mouth, past his pinch. Then I’m shaking my head, trying to get away from him.
He does not let me go. “It’s OK. You’ve taken a lot. You’re full now and it’s my turn.”
Before I can even think to protest, his sharp teeth clamp down on my neck, and I almost lose my mind in the bliss.
And while I’m floating in his spell, Ryet stirs. He claws his way up my body, and then, an instant later, his teeth sink into the other side of my neck.
Then they drain me.
And I love it…
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - RYET
Let it shine.
I am in a grand room—something like a palace, I think—sitting on a luxurious couch upholstered in a soft rosy velvet. Syrsee is to my left and on the other side of her is Paul. We are feeding off her. And every time I draw in blood, I can feel him.
The vampire Paul.
He lifts his head up, black blood dripping off his sharp teeth, and he smiles a bloody smile at me. All around us, the purple appears and I know this isn’t real, but I also know that it is.
“Drink.” It is a command. And Paul doesn’t even wait to see if I will comply. He simply lowers his mouth back down to Syrsee, latching on again. This makes Syrsee moan and writhe against me, her hand reaching between my legs.
I push her off and get up, walking around the room. The mist parts as I pass through it, swirling up into the air like ink in water. A cramp overtakes me, a craving—but not for him. It’s for her now—and I double over from the pain.
It’s over. I’m done. He’s gotten his way and he’s used Syrsee to get it.
I watch Paul as he sucks on Syrsee’s neck. I’m in the purple, but I know I’m also not in the purple.
And just as I think those words, I’m waking up in the tower room at Paul’s compound in Montana.
The three of us are on the bed. Me, then Syrsee, then Paul. All tangled together. Feeding and being fed on. Syrsee is moaning like she’s in the middle of sex. Like she’s about to come. Paul reaches up, yanks on a chain attached to the wall behind him, and Syrsee’s hand comes free. He does that to the other hand too, then he takes it and rubs it up and down my upper thigh.
I want to push him away. Push her hand away too.
But I don’t.
Because I can’t.
I. Can’t.
And if I can’t, then… what am I? I’m out of control, that’s what I am.
None of this is in my control and when this thought hits me, it’s an instantaneous relief. Because I’m not making this decision.
And if I’m not in control, then I can give in.
And why not?
Why not enjoy her?
She was a gift, after all.
Why not enjoy him too?
We are real.
All of this is real.
So I give in, and I give up, and I drink…