Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“I told you, the clothes are for my benefit, not yours,” I tell her. Then I reach down and grab her by the waist, hauling her straight out of the chair and placing her roughly on the pile. “There.”
I stare down at her, looking so helpless in that shift, with her lifeless arms and untrained legs, but I’m learning not to take anything at face value when it comes to her. I have no doubt she is in pain, that she really is powerless for the time being, but she’s still an opportunist through and through.
I can’t take any chances.
I grab the ropes off the cross and stride back over to her.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, panic in her voice.
I grab her ankles and quickly tie them together, then grab her arms and pull them behind her back, forcing her on her stomach on the mound of clothes.
“You still have Syren blood,” I tell her, securing the rope around her wrists. “That might mean you still have a Syren’s strength. I can’t afford to lose you at this stage of the game.”
I get up and peer down at her. Her shift has lifted, exposing part of her full, round bottom. It takes all my conviction not to bend over and sink my teeth into it.
“If the pain gets to be too much, feel free to have some of the wine. Enjoy your time alone,” I add, though I wince at the sound of my voice. In all my long, storied life, I have never heard such petulance in it.
I really am acting like a child.
Which means she really is getting under my skin.
Chapter Ten
LARIMAR
Pain pulls me out of a dreamless sleep, from darkness into dying candlelight. Every part of my body hurts; my arms are numb when they aren’t on fire, and my legs ache from the inside out. Even my cunt is sore from where Priest worked his fingers hard. Not that it hurt at the time—at the time, I only felt a greedy sort of bliss—but I suppose I’m getting used to having a whole new anatomy.
It doesn’t help that I’ve been dumped in an unceremonious pile on top of these garments, my ankles and wrists bound together. He said I could drink wine if I wanted to dull the pain, but getting to the casks won’t be an easy feat.
Then again, what else do I have to do?
With a groan, I slowly sit up, the room spinning slightly. My arms were useless even before he tied them behind my back, but I’ll have to do what I can. I lean back on my rear, not used to having such a soft, natural cushion either—tails never had a lot of fat in them. I start moving my legs in unison so it’s pulling me forward across the floor. Priest may have thought he was immobilizing me by tying my legs together, but this is how my body worked until recently.
I move toward the casks, pretending I still have a tail, then use my feet to push one off the stack. It bounces onto the floor, but the wood doesn’t break. I use my toes to turn it on its side and then remove the cork just as I had seen Priest do.
Red liquid spills out onto the wooden floor, and I sniff the air, making sure it is wine and not my own blood—or anyone else’s blood. Then, I lie down beside it, the wine splashing over my face as I place my lips over the spout.
I suck the cask dry. Perhaps wine tastes better when you’re a human.
It certainly feels better. It’s not long until I pass out, back into that dreamless sleep again. I know I should be making plans now that I have a human body, now that I have a chance of survival in this world once I escape.
But my thoughts soon fade to nothing.
“Larimar?”
I hear a faraway voice.
“Larimar?” the voice says again, louder now.
I feel a tapping at the side of my face.
I can only smile. This must be a dream. A man has come to save me.
“You’re drunk,” the voice says. “Come on.”
The tapping gets hard.
I feel a twinge of pain from a slap, but it’s not enough to…
Ow!
Something pierces the skin on my neck.
My eyes fly open, and all I see is long, thick black hair as Priest buries his fangs into me. I attempt to scream, but instead, it’s that horrible feeling of having the scream die inside you. Nothing comes out but raw, ragged gasps.
Priest lifts his head and looks at me through his dark lashes, amusement dancing in his eyes, a trail of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
What a beautiful, evil creature he is.
“I’m just getting you back for spilling my blood,” he says in a low voice. “Or should I say, your blood.” He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair off my face. I can’t help but flinch at the gesture. “Plus, I can see that you got into the wine. I brought you some food to help with that.”