Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“So this is how you were spying,” he said, noticing the bench opposite the peephole. Apparently they all had seats. “Do you live in these walls, haunting the inhabitants? Magic as powerful as this would require a good few of you, I’d guess, hmm? Very clever, the image you took.” He threw her over his shoulder and started walking. “She is certainly alluring. Her beauty would lead men down to hell easily, stumbling after her, hoping for one more smile. Desperate for more of her laughter. My word, but she’s gorgeous. Gorgeous and damaged—a lethal combination. A combination that would see through a creature like you. Nice try, though. I almost don’t want to destroy you.” He paused. “Almost.”
He turned left, like he knew where he was going. A snick echoed down the corridor, a door popping open. The lights shut off, plunging them into pitch black. Her face brushed against something silky, and she realized it was his wing. She pulled her face away again as he kept walking like he could see just as well as before.
“I’m really not sure what’s happening,” she finally said. There was no use in fighting. In the short term, it wasn’t going to get her anywhere but injured. She’d just have to wait and see if there was an opening down the road. Or who knew—maybe one of the house inhabitants would come for her, presuming Ivy House didn’t hide her location in another one of its horrible jokes.
“I find that hard to believe,” he replied.
“Clearly. By the by, can you shift me to a more comfortable position?”
Without missing a beat, he hefted her up and pulled her back over his shoulder, cradling her against his chest. His arms were like bands of steel, locking her in.
She went ahead and leaned her head against his hard shoulder. Might as well get comfy until the ride was over.
“How’d you feel me through that wall?” she asked. “That’s not normal.”
“The magic. I could feel the old magic with her essence mixed in. I am able to do that.” He said the last like it would be some sort of surprise, with a little humor mixed in. “I thought it was her until I saw this thing”—he shook her a little—“crawl up behind me.”
“I didn’t crawl,” she grumbled as her brain tried to process what he was saying.
It couldn’t. She had no line of reference for what he was talking about. It was best to start with the basics.
“Feel who, Jessie? Could you feel Sebastian, too?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “Is this a trick?”
“Hell, man, I don’t know. You’re in charge here, not me. I was just trying to see if you fellers could sense invisible people. The better shifters can, though none of them can sense someone through a wall like that…I don’t think. Actually, we’ve never tested it. Certainly none of them can see through this potion or see this well in the dark. Jessie can’t. Is this something guardians are known for?”
He slowed, then stopped, his breath dusting her face. He was clearly looking down at her.
“What expression are you making?” she asked. “It’ll maybe help me know what’s going on. Because I have to say, I’m completely in the dark on this one.” She chuckled to herself. “Get it?”
He didn’t respond.
“’Cause it’s dark?” Still nothing. “I’ve been hanging around Edgar too long,” she grumbled.
“Natasha.”
“Yeah?”
“Natasha’s essence.”
It was her turn to pause. “I’m trying pretty hard not to be grossed out, so I have to ask, can you feel other people’s essences, too?”
“What—”
He put her down jarringly, and she stumbled. She put out her hands blindly, not sure what she might run into or maybe what staircase she might unwittingly tumble down. His fingers curled around her upper arm to stabilize her, and then he yanked his hand away as though burned.
“Natasha?” he asked in a wispy voice, still whisky smooth, behind her now.
The blackness of the tunnel disoriented her, unsettled her. The thought of being trapped in there squeezed her chest with the beginnings of panic, made worse by his dangerous proximity and obviously off-kilter mental state.
“Oh God,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. But that didn’t do anything. There was no difference between open eyes and closed eyes, and she didn’t know how to get out. She didn’t know which way to turn or how to get away from him.
“Natasha.”
“Stop saying my name!” she yelled, breathing hard, panic squeezing her. “Sabby, I need you,” she whispered, tears threatening as she was yanked back in time. Tied in a sack. Stuffed in a closet. Left. “Oh God.”
She felt with her hands, finding a wall. Feeling along it. Touching forward with her foot to make sure there were no stairs. Tristan’s hand touched down on her shoulder, and the panic turned into fear-induced aggression.