Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34989 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34989 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Nolan jogged across the street, the slap of his sneakers echoing through the silent block. The second he hit his porch, he fished his keys from his front pocket and unlocked the door.
He hesitated over the threshold, his ears straining over the pounding of his heart to hear if anyone was there waiting for him. The air was stale and cool, but there was no sound other than the soft hum of the refrigerator. Nothing looked out of place in the living room. Just the usual chaos of discarded shoes, rumpled clothes, and a couple of old to-go cups sitting forgotten on the battered coffee table.
With a quick sigh of relief, Nolan hurried to his office, where even more chaos waited for him. Books, papers, and used legal pads were stacked everywhere. At least three dirty coffee mugs sat on the desk, crowding the monitor. Pens of every color poked out from under loose paper as if watching him, fearful they’d be snatched up and gnawed on as he hammered out the next scene in his book.
As much as his office resembled a disaster area, it showed no signs of being touched by another person. He dropped into the rolling chair and dug through the papers for the notebooks he’d used for his previous project. After he snagged those, all he needed to do was find some post office receipts he’d saved. They had to go off to his accountant if he wanted to claim them on his taxes.
Unfortunately, sitting at his desk sparked four more memories of things he needed to get done. The two-minute trip stretched into fifteen when he realized what he was doing.
A curse tripped off his lips as he picked up the notebooks and stuffed the receipts inside the cover. The second he pushed to his feet, the front door creaked open.
Fuck!
That had to be Sky searching for him because he’d taken so long. He hadn’t meant to drag the witch away from his client or make him worry.
With his notebooks tucked under his arm, he rushed out of his office and to the living room, but it wasn’t Sky he found standing by the door. He didn’t know who this man was with the shaved head and multiple ear piercings. Feet frozen, Nolan’s fingers tightened on the notebook while he attempted to force words past his heart lodged in his throat.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“Master Sandor sent us for you.”
“No!” Nolan’s free hand shot out toward the stranger as if to hold him off. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve told him I don’t want to be his pet. I don’t want anything to do with him or the Sandor clan.”
The man took a step forward, his thin lips twisting into a smirk. “Pets don’t get choices. They obey, or they die.”
Nolan’s frantic brain was still trying to sort through that threat when a floorboard creaked behind him. He finally registered that the intruder had said “us.”
The pain was brief, and the darkness was all-consuming.
The back of his head throbbed. A groan rattled up Nolan’s dry throat, and he rolled over, trying to relieve the pressure on his skull.
What the fuck happened?
Why am I on the floor?
He cracked his eyelids open and took in the dim light glinting off large, black octagonal tiles that covered the floor and were held together by rough slate-gray grout. The coolness of the tiles chilled his body, leaving the cold to settle into his bones.
Where was he?
His last memory was of being in his own home, but he didn’t have tile like this anywhere in his place. He blinked his eyes open completely, taking in dark walls framed by mahogany baseboards. A couple of wall sconces cast a pale-yellow glow, but they did little to push away the shadows.
This place had an expensive feel to it. As if the room itself cost more than he made in a year. But he didn’t know—
Christoph!
His head swung to search for the vampire, but the movement sent pain slashing through his skull, tearing a cry from his lips as he clutched his head with both hands.
“You brought that on yourself.”
Nolan shivered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. He released his head and slowly turned it in the voice’s direction. Christoph was sitting in a black tufted wingback chair. The vampire was in slacks and a button-down shirt that was open at the collar. Something inside of him flinched to see him without a tie and jacket. This was too casual, too personal.
But then, he was in Christoph’s lair, right? Things were about to get very fucking personal.
“I don’t want to be here,” Nolan said in a low, harsh voice. He clung to the rage bubbling inside of his chest, refusing to succumb to the fear that was rising like a tide. “I want to go home.”