Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
As she pushed open the basement door, her cat wrinkled her nose. The strong scent of chlorine permeated the thick, moist air. She was glad to see that the pool was empty. She liked having it all to herself and really wasn’t in the mood to listen to laughter and shrieking echoing around her. She wanted to be alone.
The pool was pretty basic. There was a waterslide at the shallow end and a diving board at the other. Near the life jackets was a pile of water toys and kickboards.
She peered through the door to the attached fitness room but couldn’t make out if anyone was inside. It was quite popular among the males of the pride, especially Tate, Luke, and the enforcers.
In the changing room, she swapped her clothes for her bikini and scrunched her curls up into a hair tie before stuffing her bag and towel in a locker. Mindful of the slippery tiles, she walked back out to the pool. The water gently rippled and lapped at the edges. Thankfully, it was still empty of people.
Holding her breath, she plunged into the pool. The cool water swallowed her, felt almost welcoming. She swam for the surface and sucked in a mouthful of air, shoving the wet tendrils of hair out of her face. For a few moments, she just floated there, enjoying the feel of the water lapping against her skin.
There was something very peaceful and calming about being in the water. There was no bombardment of sensations or list of things to do. Just her and the water. It enabled her to switch off, which she sorely needed to do right then.
The silky water slid over her skin as she swam length after length. Her tension gradually slipped away, but she didn’t stop. She kept going. Pushed herself until her muscles were screaming for rest. Yet, she felt better. More relaxed. Her head no longer felt crowded by thoughts.
Hearing a slight plop of water, she glanced over her shoulder. No one. Not even a shadow under the water. Frowning, she shrugged it off. Ready to get out, she began a gentle swim toward the metal ladder—
Something tightened around her ankle and yanked her under. The shock of it almost stole her breath. She looked down. It was a rope. No, a snake. It was a fucking snake. Triangular-shaped head. Wormlike lure on the end of the tail curled around her ankle. Large dark bands surrounding a black, short, robust body.
Death adder. One so huge that it could only be a damn shifter.
Panic clawed at her insides, but she wrestled it down before it could engulf her. Her heart pounding, she kicked her leg wildly and slashed the fucker’s long body with her claws. Its hold loosened enough for her to wriggle free of its grip and kick for the surface.
Sucking in huge gulps of air, she bobbed there for just a second. Get out, she told herself. Get. Out. She made a frantic swim for the ladder, knowing she had a better chance of fighting the snake if she were out of the water.
Sharp pain blazed up her leg. The little bastard had bitten her. Fuck. Adrenaline racing through her system, she swam faster. Almost there—
The snake snatched her ankle and pulled her under the water again. Raging, she kicked and thrashed and clawed at the creature. Her cat’s fury pulsed in her blood, feeding her anger. The feline wanted the freedom to battle the snake herself, but its smaller body had less of a chance against the creature.
Helplessly inhaling the water, Mila kept on fighting. Or tried to. Her muscles were weakening, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the venom or the struggle. The chlorinated water stung her nose, pricked at her eyes, and burned her throat.
The snake tried to curl around her chest. Oh, the fuck no. She stabbed her claws deep into its body and twisted her hand, making yet more blood stain the water. The snake jerked away, releasing her, and she quickly kicked for the surface again. She gasped for air, spluttering, coughing, and choking.
She clumsily grabbed a metal rung of the ladder. Triumph would have filled her if she didn’t feel so heavy and drained, which was no doubt thanks to the venom. Managing to climb a few of the steps and drag herself weakly onto the tiled surface, she lay flat on her stomach, greedily inhaling huge gulps of air. She wouldn’t get far, she knew. Wouldn’t make it out of there, and her throat was too raw for her to scream for help.
Her frantic daze darted around, searching for a weapon or—
There was a whistle near the kickboards.
Her heart jumped. She could use it to signal for help. Water drizzled down her body onto the tiles as she army-crawled her way to the whistle, conscious that it was her only chance. Snatching it, she put it to her mouth and blew hard. The weak, shaky screech bounced off the walls. She did it again and again, but the sounds got fainter and fainter. No one came.