Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
I swallow hard, feeling my consciousness doing its best to slip away to alleviate me of the pain. I cling to my senses, doing my best to stay awake.
“I know you've enjoyed my little Easter egg hunt. You and your new friends,” he continues, grinning like this is all some amusing game. “I certainly enjoyed creating the pointless mission to keep you all busy. Although, I thought you would catch on quicker. You're valuable to me, with your skills and your power. I wanted you centuries ago and I want you now. I've watched you for months, Talia, and you would be a formidable asset at my side. To our cause.” He sighs. “You see, I would treat you as an equal.” He bends down, dragging a finger down my cheek. “I would’ve never gone into stasis without you. I would’ve let the world burn around us if it meant I got to keep you. You would be privy to everything, and would act as a weapon, an asset, not some ankle weight shackling me to one place like he treats you.”
“Don't believe me?” he continues, reaching into his pocket as he retrieves the small statue of his late wife that he’d stolen from the museum. “Let me prove it to you, shall I? You see this?” He grips it in a fist, breaking the stone and letting it crumble to the ground next to me, revealing a corked vial. “This is what I was after all along, a rare vial of Night Thistle my dear late wife happened upon while she was playing with her potions. Only vampires at full strength can withstand this,” he says. “And we're already working on duplicating it. Soon we’ll be able to turn the power back into the right hands. Eliminate any vampires who are a threat to the true future of our kind, regardless of age or power.”
He's insane.
I loosen the grip on my wound, knowing the more blood I let spill the quicker the poison will be free from my veins. If I can hold on long enough to grab my power again and snatch that out of his hand, I can put an end to this.
“Don't you see that you're on the losing side? With my inner circle, and the force of the Sons of Honor at our back, you and your hunters and that pathetic excuse for a king stand no chance. We already have more supernaturals on our side than you even know about, and the last thing I want is to see you killed in a bloody battle that you have no business being in.”
I shake my head, whimpering again at the rush of pain that splits down the center of me.
“Conrad,” I say, hating that this is what he's turned into. “You're better than this. You used to be—”
“Don't do that,” he says, his smile falling. “Don't pretend like you ever cared for me. You’re better than that. We were acquaintances at best, especially once you turned down my attempts to court you.”
“What happened to you? Conrad, we used to be friends.”
He crouches down, his hand cupping my cheek, pain lining the features on his face. “I know,” he says. “Don't you know that's why I'm doing this? I didn't want to hurt you. I had to, don't you see? If I didn’t injure you, you would’ve immediately launched into a fight and you wouldn't listen to me. I need you to understand, your place is on our side. Your place is with me.”
I swallow hard, a cold sweat popping on my brow. “You keep saying our—”
Gravel crunches as another vampire steps out of the shadows, wending in. For a split second, I think Saint stumbled upon me, and I’m overcome with relief, but as the moonlight drenches him, I can tell it's not Saint.
It's Samuel.
“Talia?” Samuel asks, grinning down at me. “What's it been, a few centuries? I knew Conrad spoke about your little chase, but seeing you is a whole other thing. You looked better the last time I saw you.”
I try to muster a snarky retort, but I'm so damn weak, the blood loss and the poison doing everything to render me absolutely useless.
Why do I always have to go off on my own?
Conrad glares up at Samuel. “Enough of that,” he snaps. “Heal her.”
Samuel slides his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “Now why in the hell would I heal Zachariah’s mate? He’ll be weakened beyond repair the moment he feels her die.” He smiles, eyes brightening.
Conrad stands up, stomping toward Samuel. “You promised. This was part of the plan.”
Samuel laughs, and I realize that he’s just as convincing as he’s always been, drawing people into his plans and inspiring a twisted loyalty that I’ll never understand.
I feel so damn bad for Saint and the others.