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’ve got… hope. Hope that somehow, some way, this direction I’m headed isn’t my destiny.
Hope is a dangerous thing. It blinds you. Much like the lying best friend. But it’s different because you’re the one pumping yourself up, not some outside entity.
And this is bad. Really bad. Because I’m no one. Let’s face it, I was bred. That’s what he said. You were bred for this purpose, Syrsee. This is why I exist. It is my destiny.
And you know, it’s a little bit of a relief. At least my life makes sense now. At least I understand the abandonment. Because it wasn’t abandonment at all, was it? It was… what?
A contract.
I was a box checked off on an order form and nothing more.
I wasn’t left at the Guild compound. I was… delivered. As promised and on time.
Wow.
I huff out another laugh, causing Paul to swivel in his seat to see me better. When the door to the helicopter slid open and I was directed to get in, it felt a little bit like climbing into a minivan. The main part of the passenger cabin was a seating arrangement of four luxury leather chairs. But behind them, in the back, were four more seats, smaller and closer together. I wanted to go back there because the four in front were facing each other and I didn’t want to encourage a conversation.
But there was no way to get into that space without adjusting the chair blocking the entrance, so I took the luxury seat on the far end and turned my face to the viewing window.
Paul pointed to the headset attached to my chair just before we lifted off, encouraging me to wear it, but I didn’t. So I can’t hear anything but the loud thumping of the helicopter’s rotors.
But Paul is talking to me anyway. And I’m watching his lips so I hear the words in my head in his voice. You’re right where you’re supposed to be, love.
He’s listening to my thoughts?
I turn away from him without acknowledging anything and go back to looking out the window. There’s something below us now and as soon as I think this, we’re descending, tipping forward in a downward motion that makes me brace my hands on the arms of the seat as the edge of the compound comes into view.
It’s big. Much, much bigger than the spa we just came from. In fact, it looks like a town—a little, very secluded mountain town complete with more buildings than I can count and tiny people making their way down heated pathways towards… whatever people do when they work for a vampire.
We touch down on a square of blacktop with a giant H in the center. And then the door opens and the already frigid temperature inside the cabin drops to a whole new level.
Paul gets out and waits, offering me his hand.
I get up, ducking, ignore his hand, and jump out. Still ducking and confused, because I don’t know where we’re going or what happens now.
But his hand is there in the small of my back, encouraging me to go in a particular direction. We move quickly, still ducking until the danger of spinning rotors are behind us, and head towards a massive lodge, even bigger and more impressive than the one at the spa.
When the doors open and two footmen appear, nodding at Paul as he whisks me inside, a blast of heat blows down from the ceiling and I almost stop to bask in the warmth.
But I can’t because Paul is still directing me with a hand on the small of my back, and then another set of doors open while the first set closes, and we are inside.
I am inside the vampire’s lair.
I shake my head as we walk, passing by many people who look human, but stare at me with a hunger in their eyes, so I know they’re not.
It’s like they can smell me.
And maybe they can?
I am food, after all.
But I know they’re not vampires, either. Because Paul says he’s the only one and Ryet is his pet project. So they are something else, I guess.
My ears are still humming from the noise of the helicopter, but that thrum begins to fade as Paul barks out instructions to his minions. “Turn the heat up. Get the chef in the kitchen. Is the guest suite prepared?”
He’s talking to a young girl. Maybe twenty. She is petite, and pretty, and has a pink bob haircut that shines in the warm glow of the chandeliers. She’s nodding her head as she talks. “Yes, my lord. Everything is set.” Then she bows a little and waits for his next response.
Paul glances at me, smiling. And all I see are his fangs covered in blood.
Except they aren’t bloody. That’s just a memory from earlier.