Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Adrian swallowed hard, looking shaky, “I might be able to help, no guarantees, but...”
“You’re of no use to me…”
“I am! I have information. It’s not a guarantee but it’s … it’s possible. And I could have her worked on so that we can get her functional maybe…”
“Talk. Fuck functional. That’s not good enough.”
“Can I at least get off the floor, Tristan?” Adrian looked him in the eye and his expression, his words, they were laced with venom.
Tristan’s eyes narrowed at him and won the stare down, then turned his attention to Sam’s s eyes.
“Get him up. Watch him. Don’t let him leave.” He passed Sam Adrian’s dagger, “You don’t use one of these on me. Ever. Neither do you, Constantin; not that you’ll ever get the opportunity.”
Sam nodded. Adrian nodded.
Tristan went to the kitchen and washed his hands thoroughly in the sink. Liam’s blood would get nowhere near Kyla so he scrubbed as meticulously as a surgeon heading into surgery would. He opened the refrigerator door and assessed the contents. The fridge was well-stocked but there were no grape-flavoured soft drinks. He moved a bottle of ginger ale aside to get to a bottle of Coke. He poured a glass of it and carried it up to her, passing them along the way, saying, “Put that mess outside.,” he climbed the stairs, “Let Jeff and Leonard take care of it. No one else steps inside. No one climbs these stairs.”
“Roger, that,” Sam said from the sofa where he and Adrian had been in conversation.
She was sitting in bed, a bottle of water in her hand.
“No grape, princess. I have Coke. You want Coke?”
He waited what seemed like forever for her to answer. He put the smaller dagger under the pillow her head was on.
“No,” she said softly, finally. She looked weak. Dangerously weak.
He passed her the glass, “Try it,” and sat beside her as she drank. He put his lips to her forehead. Her temperature was fine but her colouring was wrong. So pale.
“How ya feelin’?” He caressed her face.
“Fuzzy?” she asked instead of answered after a few beats and put the three quarters full glass on the table beside the bed. She did it a little shakily and the glass was precariously on edge. He leaned over to her to move it back, resulting in her leaning into him.
His chest burned. He reached and lifted her legs and swung them into the bed and pulled her close. She burrowed into him and he took a big breath and basked in it.
“You’re hurt?” she asked.
“No, baby, I’m okay,” His heart twinged.
He heard the front door open and close. He wanted to stay with her but had to deal with shit downstairs so he tucked her under the blankets.
“Stay up here. If you need me, call my name.”
“Tristan.”
“Yeah, baby.” He felt that. It was musical the way she said his name. He closed his eyes and felt it deep and then kissed her lips.
She blinked at him, her eyes bloodshot.
“Tristan,” she repeated.
“Yeah?”
She just laid there.
“I’ll make you some food in a bit and bring it up. Hungry?” He caressed her face with the back of his hand.
She shook her head.
“Okay, but will you try for me? You need to replenish your strength.”
He wanted her strong. And he wanted to feed and feel her again. As soon as possible.
She nodded and took what looked like a painful swallow.
He kissed her forehead, “Rest, baby. I’ll bring you food soon. Stay here until I come back.” He headed back downstairs.
Sam was mopping the floor. All traces of Liam Donavan were gone. Adrian Constantin was on the sofa, watching Sam, expression grim.
“Talk,” Tristan said to Constantin while pouring a glass of whiskey.
“She’s not lucid but she tastes like nectar? I’d like one of those.” Adrian jerked his chin at the bottle of booze.
“I didn’t say ask. I said talk. And I didn’t offer you any.”
“I’ll talk, but I’m just surprised. The more I know, the more I can potentially help.”
Tristan swallowed the equivalent of probably about 3 shots of whiskey by tossing the contents of his half-full glass down his throat.
“She’s worse than ‘not lucid’. She’s a space cadet, zombie. She has her motor skills but she’s dazed, zoned out, slow responses. She was burning up and I tried feeding and it tasted not just like her but like her nectar. Her fever finally broke after I fed but she’s still off. Off beyond the zombie thing. Uncomfortable; in pain. Now talk. Tell me why I shouldn’t end you right here, right now.”
“This information… it’s…” Adrian looked to Sam and then back to Tristan and said, “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?”
Tristan folded his arms across his chest and glared.
“Indulge me. Please. Could I have a drink? You know, of the booze I supplied to you while hosting you on my property?”