Series: The Un Series by Izzy Sweet
Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
I still have to try, though.
Gritting my fangs together, I bend my knees and summon every ounce of strength I have.
Then I throw the heavy fucker up as hard as I can.
It actually crashes into the ceiling but somehow doesn’t do any damage. Then the damn thing falls right back down.
I try to dart out of the way, but the invisible wall won’t let me. Pressing myself up against the wall, I sense the sharp tip of the gargoyle’s wing slicing down my back.
“Fuck!” I scream as loud as I can.
“Now…” The Prophet clicks his tongue in disapproval. “That’s no way for a young lady to speak.”
I whip toward the doorway and see him filling it with his voluminous robe. The same black ceremonial robe he wore during my Judging. The one with all the golden figure eights weaved along the seams.
Why didn’t I sense him? I wonder.
My inner bitch isn’t quite as snarky when she responds, It could be the symbol.
A growl slips out of me.
The Prophet tips his head back and laughs.
His laughter is the most disturbing sound I’ve heard him make, by far. Disturbing because it’s so human, without any of the usual creepiness attached to it. “You sound like a kitten.”
He glides toward me, and I instinctively take a step back and bare my fangs at him.
His hooded head inclines, but there’s still humor in his voice. “A feral kitten.”
Narrowing my eyes, I peer into the darkness beneath his hood, searching for his face. But the darkness must be made of magic or something because I can’t pierce it.
He begins to slowly circle around the invisible walls, like he’s circling around my cage, and I keep every one of my senses focused on him.
“What do you want? Why bring me here?” I ask.
No point in beating around the bush.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks back.
I growl again and clench my fists. If these walls weren’t between us, I’d tear out his throat. “No, it’s not fucking obvious!”
He chuckles. “Ah, I remember when I was first turned. Newborn vampires are so… volatile. You’re a slave to your emotions. And what strong emotions they are!”
My inner bitch warns, “He’s purposely riling you up.”
I shake my head hard, wishing she’d shut up.
Head cocking again, the Prophet stops circling to study me. I may not be able to see his face, but I can sense his eyes burning holes into me. “And you still haven’t given in to your true nature. You’re still fighting her.”
I suddenly throw myself at the invisible wall in front of him and slam my palms against it. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
He doesn’t move or jump back, as if he expected me to do what I did. “What was the question?’
Told you! my inner bitch exclaims.
But I’m not convinced she’s right this time.
Yes, he’s been purposely riling up, but the way he’s standing in place, reminds me of something…
Testing my theory, I look away from him and let my arms fall down to my sides. “Why did you bring me here? Why go to all this trouble?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him finally take a step back and his shake hooded head, as if trying to dislodge something from it.
Silence hangs between us, and I come to a second realization. I haven’t heard him moving around. His robes should be making quite a bit of noise, but they’re silent.
Above me, I can hear all the humans moving about and their hearts thumping like drums behind their ribs. Calling to me like an ancient tune that thrums in my blood.
Calling me to feast.
But I can’t hear the Prophet.
Did he create the bubble around me for this purpose? To keep me trapped in place and at his mercy? With no way to defend myself against him?
“To break your bond,” he finally answers.
I whip my head back toward him and focus all my attention on the darkness beneath his hood. “Why would you want to do that?”
He freezes again and I sense the weight of his unseen gaze on my face. “Because you should be mine.”
My inner bitch snorts. How cliché.
Shut up! I growl back at her when he gives his head another little shake, momentarily breaking the spell I’m putting him under.
I don’t know if he can hear her or if he’s only sensing her, but she’s fucking it all up.
Reaching up, purposely drawing attention back to my face, I brush some of my hair behind my ear. “Why should I be yours?”
He takes a step forward and his voice drops to a growl that vibrates through my bones. “Because I’m the one who has spent years cultivating you and crafting you into what you are.”
Cultivating and crafting me? Is he the reason I have these fucking powers?
I twist my own growl into a purr. “Is that why you kept me beneath the church?”