Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
His face has androgynous qualities. A sharp jawline, but eyes with long dark lashes. Straight, thick eyebrows, but lips that could have been carved by Lucifer himself. His pallor borders on unnatural, but whether he’s wearing powder and foundation or not, I swear there’s a hint of kohl under his eyes.
Most strangely though, pointy ears peek from under his glorious hair. Hell, I didn’t know my hometown attracted LARPers of this caliber. Maybe I should give role-playing a shot after all.
My heart skips a beat when his gray eyes pin me in place, and then it stops when he heads toward me. I expected to hear the squeak of leather or the jingling of buckles, but he is as silent as a cat.
I move the handle of the mop between us, but it’s not enough to stop him from grabbing my shoulders. His eyes lock with mine, and those have to be contact lenses because the gray seems to shift from pale to dark, as if there’s literal smoke in his irises.
His lips spread into a smile that looks positively predatory.
“Luke Moor. Finally. I am here to claim my Dark Companion.”
Chapter 2
Luke
Ilet out a nervous laugh that borders on hysterical. “…What?”
He cocks his head at me, and his hair moves over his shoulder like waves of dark gray silk. “Luke Moor. I have no doubt it is you, as I have pulled a thread from my shadow and tied it to yours. Surely, you remember?”
His eyes are like two whirls of smoke, and I meet them with a mixture of disbelief and nausea. I haven’t told anyone about the terrifying dream from years ago, but this must be a prank.
Kurt holds back a snort. “Exactly, Luke Moor. He tied a thread to your shadow. Obviously, you have to date him now.”
“Marry,” the stranger corrects in a low voice that’s like a purr going down my spine.
I try to compose myself and take a deep breath. I’m not about to lose my head and get pulled into some weird scheme just because a guy has nice hair, and his face looks as if he made a deal with the devil for his beauty. Like one weirdo asshole customer a day isn’t enough…
Backing away and out of his grasp is step one. Then, I shove away the mop so that I can put the counter between me and this handsome, but also creeptastic, stranger.
I squint at him in the hope that my resting bitch face and demonic glare, as my mother likes to call it, chase him off. “I have no idea who you are.”
He… bows. Actually, freaking bows. Hand on chest, wide gesture of the arm and everything. His long hair spills to the mopped floor. “I am Crown Prince Kyranis Nightweed. The future Lord of the Nocturne Court, Ruler of the Shadowild, Protector of the Nightmare Realm, and Knight of Grief Ocean, which you might know as the Sea of Sorrows.”
Nope. I definitely don’t know of a Sea of Sorrows.
I’m so stunned I’m not sure what to say, so I glance at Kurt, and that’s it. When our eyes meet, we both burst out laughing. I don’t know who’s set me up, but I need a full-bellied laugh like this today. I’m wiping tears out of my eyes while the stranger stands there, lips in a tight line.
I’m still the slightest bit unsettled by the whole ‘tied-thread-to-shadow’ bit, because that same exact thing happened in my nightmare years ago, but it could be some weird coincidence.
“Listen, man, sorry, I’m not laughing at you. This whole thing,” I point from his fine boots to his pointy ears, “is really top-notch. How about some fries and a shake on the house?”
Kurt’s face is so red from all the laughing that his cheeks glisten like polished apples. “You really made our night.”
Prince Kyranis frowns, and I have to admit it makes him somehow even more handsome. He’s like a storm cloud so magnificent you look at it unafraid of the lightning about to strike. “I am taking you away tonight,” he says sternly.
I roll my eyes when I turn to get the dude some fries. “Well, I don’t finish work until nine, so I can’t marry you until then.”
He nods. “That is acceptable. I will wait for you to wrap up your affairs.”
Or, you could go home, I think to myself.
When I hand him the tray with fries and a complimentary vanilla shake, his finger slides over mine and I notice he’s wearing one of those metal claw rings. Way to commit to the role. A little cheesy, but I’m partial to a bit of tacky gothic indulgence. I can’t usually afford the stuff I like, but I have some studded chokers and a bat-shaped belt buckle in my accessories drawer.
The handsome stranger gives me a once-over and walks off to a corner booth offering the perfect view of the counter. And me.