Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 131875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
“An audience has been requested. We should be quick. He does not like to be kept waiting.”
Constantine exchanged a look with Kerrigan. She wanted to say no. He must have seen it on her face, but there was no possible way that she could do that. Vulsan would kill her for her audacity at denying him. He might kill her anyway if he found out who she was. Scales.
“This way,” the woman said demurely.
They had no choice but to follow her back out of the holding quarters and into the coliseum above. Up and up and up. Until they were past the cheering crowds watching the lower fights before the main event. They climbed until reaching a row of boxes inset into the otherwise free-for-all stands. These boxes were reserved, and in them sat people of importance. Kerrigan recognized Senator Augustan and his wife, Iris, in one of them. To her surprise, Tarcus was seated with his wife and an older gentleman who must have been his father.
At the sight of her bruised and bloodied face, Tarcus’s eyes rounded in horror. He came to his feet suddenly, jarring his wife’s drink and sending the red wine splashing against her white dress. She jerked back in outrage, and her servants rushed to help clean up the mess. But Tarcus’s eyes were only for Kerrigan. She couldn’t help it. She smirked in his direction before disappearing out of view.
Then, they were before the box for Doma Vulsan Andromadix. Power radiated off of him before they were even allowed inside. To say it was overwhelming would be an understatement. It was as if she were standing before the sun and hoping not to be burned. He was a fireball of energy. The power he possessed nearly brought her to her knees.
Not to make the same mistake twice, Kerrigan dropped to a knee in his presence and felt his gaze drift over her disfigured face. Constantine was at her side, bowing to his conqueror.
The fury rose up in her. How could anyone go up against the likes of the Doma if just one of them had this much power? The Andines had never stood a chance.
“Rise,” Vulsan said with an almost-bored voice.
She came slowly to her feet and got her first up-close look at him. He had fair skin, but there was nearly a glow to it. An energy that made him special. That revealed his rank. His hair was dark and close-cropped with just a hint of curl at the temples, and he had eyes so blue that she could have dived into their oceanic depths. His jaw was square, his nose pointed, and his cheekbones high. In the white toga, embroidered with Doma gold at the edges, his muscular physique was plainly on display.
A handful of servants fanned him with big, broad woven fans. Trays of food and wine were displayed all around him. A man took a bite of everything before it made it to Vulsan’s plate. A taster. A half-dozen beautiful women in nearly sheer Domaran dresses were splayed around him. One was even lying across his lap with her butt in the air. His hand gently stroked the woman’s exposed rear.
Kerrigan could barely keep the disgust off of her face. This man knew vice and reveled in it.
“So,” Vulsan said, “you’re not a Doma.”
She didn’t know if she should speak. So, she remained silent.
He laughed, and it was a boastful, hearty thing. As if the idea had always been outrageous to him. “And they called you a Doma. Look at you.” She didn’t have to look down to know what he saw. “Did you tell them that you were a Doma?”
This was a direct question, and he finally looked into her emerald eyes when he asked it.
“No, sir,” she answered.
“I thought when I saw you on the street …” He trailed off at that. As if admitting that he remembered her from the street was some sort of weakness. But it was hardly that. She had felt the terrible, inexplicable connection when his eyes settled onto her. Not that he’d recognized her. She’d be dead if he had. Still, it wasn’t something she could explain. She’d known him for who he was. Perhaps he’d known her for who she was as well. Denied it to himself somehow. And it’d all led to this moment.
“But you’re not one of us.”
“No, sir,” she repeated.
He stripped her bare with a look. As if he was attempting to sus out exactly what it was about her that intrigued him. Because despite his bored demeanor, he was intrigued. That was a problem in itself.
“That was my fault.” Constantine spoke up.
Vulsan snapped his head away from Kerrigan to Constantine.
What was he doing? Taking the heat off of her and drawing a Doma’s attention to him. Was he insane?