Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
As they laughed and joked, my shoulders relaxed a bit, not entirely, though, because of Theseus, who watched me with a pained expression on his face. Even when I was trying not to cause him pain, I still caused him pain.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words were heavy, and I hung back. “I went back in time, Theseus, because I burned the grimoire.”
“You burned it?” he questioned.
I nodded, messing with my hair a bit.
“Why did you burn it?” he pressed.
Forget it.
I would just tell him.
I’ll rip the bandage off.
After taking a breath I didn’t need, I met his gaze again. “I burned it because I was mad and frustrated…and…and worried about you.”
“About me?”
“Yes!” I snapped. “When I touched the grimoire, it said my name was Druella Zirie Omeron. There was a spell in it, and when I said it, you shone, then you were in pain, but you said your memories were coming back. Before you collapsed, y-you said… You said I took your memories and that I killed you. And I…” I shook my head over and over again, the tears I was holding back finally coming forward. “I don’t remember what I did or why, but I hurt you, and I’m so sorry.”
I was so happy my heart was dead because I was sure it would be pounding. I wanted to run far away—
“Why do you look so pained? There is a reasonable explanation, I am sure.”
My head snapped back up. When I looked into his eyes, he smiled down at me and reached over to cup the side of my cheek, using his thumb to clear the tears from my eyes.
“What if there isn’t?” I asked.
“There is,” he replied.
I sighed, pushing his hand away. “Theseus, have you ever thought that you might be too trusting!”
“I do believe this is the first time any being, mortal or immortal, has ever said such to me.” He grinned.
“I am serious!”
“So I can see. But you are aware that you wish me to be untrusting of you, correct?” he argued back.
I frowned.
“Stubborn one.” He leaned in closer.
“Do not call me—”
“Or what? You shall kill me and steal my memories—again.”
My mouth dropped open, and he just snickered at whatever stupid look I was making, which annoyed me more! He was joking about this, of all things.
“Who knows, maybe I will!” I snapped. “Maybe that’s what happened. You annoyed me so much I had to kill you and took your memories to hide the evidence.”
He nodded calmly. “Then it is not a murder, but a lovers quarrel? Thus, you killed me as a reprieve of your anger, knowing I would return. Therefore, you are merely abusing my gift of immortality. Quite extreme, my dear, but possible.”
I crossed my arms and tilted my head to the side as I just glared at him. Seconds ago, I felt miserable, confused and frustrated. Now…now I was completely and utterly dumbfounded by Theseus Christian Apollo de Thorbørn, the Prince of Night, the vampire eternal. The man believed against everything that I was his fated love, and we were destined, no matter all the chaos that seemed to unfold around me—no matter if I was the number one suspect in the case of what happened to him.
And his unwavering belief was making me believe it, too.
Dropping my hands, I felt a bit like a child. “Well, now I feel a little bit dumb for all the guilt I have when all you do is brush this off as if it is no big deal.”
“One can only feel guilt when one cares. Thus, I am greatly pleased by yours, Ms. Monroe,” he replied slowly, his accent making me shiver.
“Ms. Omeron.” It was only at her voice that I remembered the rest of the vampires were all watching us. Rhea’s voice held all the rage and malice I was expecting from Theseus or even Sigbjørn. “Do your ears fail you, son, or does your heart blind you as it once did?”
She stood directly in my face. “Did he tell you of his first wife?”
“Mother—”
“You’ve had your moment, Theseus,” she snapped over her shoulder to him. In the corner of my eye, I caught her hand move. However, as she was older and fast, I saw it coming but could not back away.
It all happened before a second had passed, her hand reaching for my neck, Theseus at my side ready to stop her, and Sigbjørn calling out to her, stopping her before she could even get the chance to touch me.
“Draka, we have guests,” Sigbjørn stated, coming over and offering her his hand. Meanwhile, her nails were barely half an inch from my neck, ready to rip out my throat.
No sooner had he said it, Pelopia, who frankly looked like Tim Burton’s version of a vampire—tall, lean, dressed in black—entered the room. She bowed her head without emotion. “A number of witches, claiming to be Omerons, have arrived, my lord. They demand an audience.”