Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
The Goth look was mostly for her viewers—it went with her image as one of the few who could “see beyond the veil and commune with the spirits.” But she wasn’t about to tone it down—it was part of her on-line persona. Just the fact that the big Kindred was asking her to change—to not be herself—made her feel attacked.
“Look, I dress how I want and I use whatever makeup I want,” she snapped at R’orn. “This is who I am. Anyone who doesn’t like it—including you—can go fuck themselves!”
R’orn made a noise of frustration.
“I’m not trying to insult you. All I’m saying is, maybe if you toned it down some, you wouldn’t attract so many crazies.”
Sam lifted her chin.
“I’m not toning anything down for anybody,” she declared. “And I don’t need you to tell me how to dress or what makeup to wear either. I’m supposed to be attracting attention—that’s the whole idea of social media—to get more viewers!”
“But some of them are fucking crazy!” he exclaimed, his eyes flashing.
Sam shrugged, trying to look stoic.
“That’s part of the job. Look, would I like to just go around the country exploring haunted houses as a hobby without having to film everything? Sure, that would be great. But that’s a rich person’s life—not mine. I was barely getting by before I started my channel—and now I make enough to repair my van when it breaks down and save a little money for emergencies. I even get to treat myself to something nice like a spa day occasionally. So I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing for as long as I have to and I don’t need you interfering.”
“Fine—keep painting a target on your back,” R’orn growled. “I’ll keep my oath to protect you and keep you safe—you’re just making my job a hell of a lot harder, that’s all, sweetheart.”
“You’re making my job harder too—just by being here,” Sam told him. “Now come on—I have to meet the owner of the mansion and do a little intro on the front porch and I do not need any of your input while I’m doing it.”
He mimed a gesture of sealing his mouth shut.
“You won’t hear a word.”
“Good. That’s the way I like it.”
Sam turned her back on him and began crunching through the dry leaves to reach the huge mansion where she was going to stay the night and hopefully get the best footage of her life.
As long as the big Kindred didn’t interfere, that was—the asshole!
2
R’ORN
R’orn watched the curvy little Elite stalk off, her ridiculously clunky boots crunching in the fallen foliage as she went and her full, rounded backside twitching becomingly. Damn it—if only she wasn’t so fucking gorgeous! And if only she didn’t flaunt her beauty so freely!
It wasn’t just the fact that she was drawing the unwanted attention of deranged humans, either. It was the fact that she made the Beast within him—the dark, hungry part which almost always slept—stir restlessly. Several times it had almost awakened and R’orn had been forced to step away from her and calm it down as best he could.
This had never happened to him before. He was a Wulven Kindred but he had managed never to let that wild and ravenous part of himself out. In order to achieve this, he mostly kept away from planets that had a natural satellite. Because his Beast was tied to the cycles of the moon, that usually kept it quiescent. Living on the Mother Ship made things easy—though it orbited the Earth’s moon, it was easy to find places in the huge ship where the moon’s light didn’t shine.
Of course, coming to Earth on assignment did complicate things somewhat. But R’orn had protected females on planets with moons once or twice before. He simply stayed inside on the night of the full moon or made certain his job was done before the moon reached its zenith.
And so, the Beast inside him slept on—until he was assigned to guard Samantha Wyatt. Never before had he encountered a female who interested it, though he had been a Protector for years. But the moment he had knelt before her and taken her hands in his to offer his Oath of Protection, the Beast had stirred to wakefulness and uttered the first word it had ever spoken…
“MINE.”
R’orn had heard that single word tolling like a bell inside his head and it was all he could do to finish giving his Oath and retain his composure. He had excused himself afterwards to go calm the Beast.
The experience had shaken him to his core—but of course he couldn’t show it—especially not to the female he was protecting. He knew one thing though—he had to keep his Beast under wraps at all costs. So he kept his distance from the curvy little Elite and fed the antagonism between them on purpose. And so far, to his great relief, he had found that if he didn’t touch her, his Beast slept on and didn’t wake.