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)
The blond leader’s arm moves so fast it’s simply a blur in front of my eyes as he smacks the vampire that asked the question across the back of the head. “No, you idiot. The Marked can’t be compelled. Hence, we need to use other means.”
Shocked and terrified by how fast the leader moved, I forget for a heartbeat that I need to keep fighting if I want to escape.
Then I feel a sharp jab in my arm, quickly followed by a warm wave of euphoria washing over me. My knees become weak and my entire body relaxes with the sweetest sensation of calmness and peace.
Two things I haven’t felt in years and years...
The vampires gripping me have to hold me up now to keep me from falling on my face.
“Excellent,” I hear the leader say.
Then the rest fades away.
When consciousness next returns to me, I’m sitting in the leader’s lap in the back of a car with his arms wrapped tightly around me.
“She may be marked but there’s something… unpleasant about her that I can’t quite put my finger on,” he says to someone.
My thoughts slow and sluggish, it takes me a few moments to struggle against his nearly crushing embrace.
“Shit,” he curses more out of vexation than worry. “That crap you gave her, Enzo, already wore off.”
“No way…” Enzo says from somewhere close by in disbelief.
“Yes way,” the leader says in a snide, mocking tone. “Give her another dose.”
When throwing my weight against his arms does nothing, I turn my head and snap my teeth at the leader’s face.
He snarls viciously at me.
I recoil in fear for only a few seconds then begin to struggle again. Acting purely on my baser instincts.
“This is the last I have on me, Sire,” Enzo says with a touch of worry.
“Wonderful,” the leader grumbles before I feel the sharp jab in my arm.
Bliss washes over me, but this time I don’t lose consciousness. Slumping in the leader’s arms, my head falls back and I continue to peer at him with a glassy gaze.
“What the fuck, Enzo?” he says angrily, his blue eyes blazing. “Was that the same dose as the first one?”
“Y-yes, S-sire,” Enzo stammers, clearly nervous and possibly afraid.
I’m so unnaturally calm, I start giggling. Enzo sounds just like the scared attendant in the station.
The leader’s attention snaps back to me and he looks at me curiously. “Well, it’s not working.”
“Perhaps she already has a tolerance for it, Sire?” Enzo suggests.
I giggle again, finding the way he talks utterly hilarious.
“Perhaps,” the leader repeats thoughtfully.
He stares hard into my eyes, and I begin to fall into his piercing gaze. The blue reminding me of an ocean I want to dive in.
Blond head tilting to the side, the leader says, “Wrap your arms around me.”
I wrap my arms around him, my body moving automatically to obey.
“Oh, very interesting.” The leader grins widely, showing his fangs.
Another giggle spills from my lips. For some reason, the way he grins with his fangs reminds me of a cat.
He’s the Cheshire Cat grinning at me! I think to myself.
“Now go to sleep,” he orders.
My memories begin to speed forward again. So fast I only catch a glimpse here and there.
I wake up on my back, finding all my limbs restrained. A few vampires surround me, and the blond leader explains to someone what he learned about me.
That he found my mark between my breasts. And that drugging me gave him the ability to compel and control me.
I’m jabbed again and again, and ordered to sleep or be calm over a period of time I can’t keep track of.
The only time the memories slow down is when someone suggests, “You should try compelling away some of her memories, Nikolaos. We don’t want her bonded getting angry with us for tasting her shitty blood.”
The memories speed up again, moving at light speed. Then screech to a halt when I wake up in Raphael’s arms as he rushes us away from a building filled with the sound of fighting and screams.
The Prophet forces me to relive everything that happened after that point.
Sometimes he even rewinds my memories, especially when they involve Chloe.
When the Prophet finally releases me from the memories, I gasp for air as if I’ve been drowning.
“Oh, my poor, poor, child,” the Prophet hums and strokes my hair tenderly. “You’ve been through so much since you were taken from me.”
Shuddering, I squeeze my eyes shut. The dim candlelight hurting them. My head throbs and aches with a terrible migraine.
A loud crack resonates off the walls and I flinch. The sound slicing right through my brain.
“Do you have any idea how much danger you were in?” the Prophet asks softly. But even with my splitting migraine, I recognize the underlying edge to his question. “You could have met the same fate as Father McCall. You could have been taken from me permanently.”