Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
The sound of a door opening makes me jerk my gaze around. I frown. I thought I’d locked it, and indeed, it’s not open. Thank God.
But when I turn back to face the toilet, I realize I’m not alone any longer. Legs are in my peripheral vision. Nausea consumes me once again as I twist my head that direction.
I slowly tip my head back. And back. And back. I stop breathing when I realize the person who has apparently entered the small bathroom from the opposite side of the entrance I used is Eleadian.
I think I’m going to faint. Or die of embarrassment. Or both. Now? I’m finally face to face with one of these sexy males, and it’s all because I didn’t notice a second entrance and lock both doors?
I drop my head and groan. Surely he will leave. Instead he squats down next to me and reaches out to stroke my cheek with his thumb.
His touch feels good. It calms me somehow. My racing heart slows.
I’m still going to vomit again any second.
“I assume you purged some of that alcohol before I got here, Little one?” His voice is deep and smooth and calm and sexy.
I swallow and don’t move. Any movement is going to end up with me throwing up again before I can make it to the toilet this time. Although, judging by the state of my hair, I didn’t exactly make it last time.
I try to comprehend his words. Before he got here? He speaks as if he’d known I was in the room and had come to help. But that makes no sense. I’ve never seen him before. I would know. There’s only ten men in the building besides a few human employees.
This one has blond hair, amazing blue eyes, and tanned skin. I know that from the one glance. If I’d seen him on the dance floor at any point, I would have thrown myself at him. Hell, if I weren’t so totally drunk and sick to my stomach now, I would throw myself at him.
I cover my mouth with my hand as bile rises. Fucking hell.
I twist around and scamper to reach the toilet on my hands and knees. My ass is probably showing. I’m mortified and humiliated beyond belief.
He rises, steps behind me in seconds, and grabs my hair to pull it out of my face just in time for me to empty the remaining contents of my stomach, which isn’t much. After two more hurls of red liquid, my stomach knots, and I dry heave.
The man shifts my hair into one hand and cups my arm with his other. “Is it all out, Little one?”
I groan again. This can’t be happening. His voice is so gentle. I kind of like the way he speaks to me. His word choice is odd, but I suppose I am little compared to him.
I’m shaking now, and I’m dizzy. I want to fall through a crack in the floor and disappear from both this club and my life.
“Thank you,” I manage to murmur. “You should go. I’m disgusting.”
He doesn’t leave though. He does the opposite. He tucks one hand under my legs and lifts me off the floor, cradling me in his arms.
I squeal and cover my face. For one thing, I’m horrified that he’s so close to me. I smell awful. For another thing, every movement makes the room spin worse.
“Let’s get you upstairs,” he states as he opens the door he came through.
I peek at him. “Upstairs?”
He nods. His brow is furrowed. “Why do human females enjoy altering their state of mind?” he murmurs, mostly to himself, I think.
“To escape,” I whisper back. I squirm in his arms as he steps into a hallway behind the bathrooms and shuts the door. I’ve never been here. “Why are you helping me?” I can’t focus clearly. Something is off about this.
For several seconds, I don’t think he’s going to answer. He continues down the hallway and steps into an open elevator. After the door shuts, he rolls me more tightly against him and sets his cheek against the side of my head. His lips are near my ear. “You’re mine, Baby girl. For the rest of my life, I will always help you every time you need me.”
My heart is racing. I can’t move or breathe. Is he serious? How is this possible? I’m covered in vomit. I’m at my worst. Rock bottom. I must have hit my head, and I’m dreaming.
“Am I conscious?” I mutter.
I don’t fully realize I’ve said that out loud until he chuckles softly. “Yes. Barely.”
The elevator pings. I squeeze my eyes shut as the door opens, and he steps out. I’m afraid to look. Where are we? His apartment above the club? We must be, but I know no one is permitted upstairs unless…