Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
I used to think our father was the worst about the shit, especially considering how he once bought an entire bar just so he could kick out males at a moment’s notice that he thought were hitting on mom.
She basically got a drinking sanctuary, and one week later, I got word of my first sibling.
I swore after that I’d never see another being get so fucking growly about their mate.
And I hadn’t until both of my brothers met theirs.
Now, I fucking live in snarl city.
Honestly, sometimes it’s the reason I leave for the office so damn early. Who really wants to be subjected to that much hostility for brushing hips in passing before they’ve even had their first sip of coffee?
Thank fuck, that shit won’t be happening to me anytime soon.
Again.
No room in my schedule.
And I fucking mean it.
If the metaphorical collar around my neck squeezes even a tad tighter, I’ll be the headless dragon that haunts Draak manor, which while we’re on the subject, I would like to add in the footnotes section of this conversation that a headless dragon would be infinitely scarier than the Headless Horseman that was in the movie Ana, A.D.’s mate, made us sit through last night.
Sleeper movies are often so fucking unoriginal.
And time consuming.
Had Gene, our household servant genie, not insisted that the movie event was meant to be a family moment initiated by Ana prior to it beginning, I would’ve invested those minutes differently.
But family comes before everything else.
That was the first principle our father ever taught me.
It’s also the one that haunts me the most.
“Mr. Draak, we expect you to take these matters seriously,” Nadine hisses for what will be the last time on this call. “And if you fail to do so, there will be a closed doors meeting for myself along with the other members on the board—including your brothers—to discuss if it’s time to place a new and perhaps a better fit at the head of this company.”
The urge to tell her where I’d really like to place her pointy ear having head is swallowed to professionally state, “Understood, Ms. Olsen.”
Her final word presents itself on a triumphant hum. “Good.”
Ending the connection with a small tap to my earpiece is swiftly followed by the vent hood falling to allow the pending intruder access to my office. The instant the elf’s svelte, leather-clad frame lands in front of mine, he winces in disgruntlement knowing there’s no avoiding his untimely demise. One additional movement is the most he’s able to make before both of my large hands are aggressively gripping his face. Twisting it sharply to the right causes a cracking sound to reverberate through my office yet rather than be able to relish in the victorious noise my attention is redirected to my floor to ceilings windows that two other attackers are smashing into from the outside.
Oh, good.
I needed to add redoing my office to the fucking agenda today.
Glass shards haphazardly scatter, littering themselves on top of my platinum-colored couches and across my recently buffed marble floors. Assuming that their next plan of attack will be to fire shift stopping ammo is what prompts me to flip my dark wood conference table upward into a defense shield. Shots quickly swarm my direction from two different angles creating an irritating need to contort myself into an uncomfortable and unbecoming position that would make that wind weaver I spent the better part of my adulthood screwing quite proud.
She was obsessed with how flexible she could get me to be.
While I don’t miss her per say—I mean how many jealousy tornadoes can one being be expected to survive—I do miss her ability to manipulate air.
Especially in shit situations.
Grabbing a hold of the nearest table leg, I plant one dress shoe-covered foot on each side of it, momentarily pull them up to gain more momentum, and then propel the pair forward, sending the solid piece of wood zooming straight out the window along with the assailant standing in front of it.
His action-movie worthy screams temporarily distract his partner, which is something I instantly use to my advantage. The piece still in my possession is furiously thrown across the room and lands in the middle of his face, knocking him completely backwards. There’s no hesitation to launch onto my feet to scramble to where he’s lying most likely lifeless nor is there any reluctance to retrieve the weapon and bash his head in to make that possibility a guarantee.
Peppermint scents flood the air while blood splatters against the neighboring built-in glass shelves. I sneer at the familiar odor while continuing to strike, hating the horrific smell Sleepers are obsessed with during the winter season but loathing how hard I know it will be to remove the stench from my new shirt.
This was actually one shirt my fashion know-it-all brother picked out that I really liked.