Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
I stare at the light bulb for too long, the glow and predictable cycle of its defect holding my attention.
Until someone lets out a pain-filled groan to my left.
Jerking my chin in that direction, I see a man strapped down and bound to a metal chair. Arms and legs secured with duct tape and restraints.
The owner of the heartbeat.
I’m gliding, practically floating toward the pulsing ball of life behind his ribs. Each beat sounding like a loud thump on a drum. The primal melody so ancient, so ingrained in me, I can imagine my ancestors slapping their hands on drums made of animal skins in the same rhythm. Calling me to my second purpose.
I must eat.
My fingers curl, wanting to turn into claws, and my gums ache, my mouth filling with salvia. I’ve never been more aware of the fangs in my mouth as the points stab into the soft flesh of my bottom lip. A drop of my own blood hits my tongue, sweet, tempting, but it’s not what I need.
No, I need blood that is not my own to nourish my new body.
I need to drink life to create life.
The man bound to the chair lets out another pain-filled groan as I move toward him. His body shuddering against his restraints.
Then he says something muffled by the duct tape over his mouth that sounds a lot like my name. “Chloe.”
My step falters for a second but I shake my head. The hunger must be playing tricks on me.
Moving forward again, I instantly cover the rest of the distance between us.
My lips peel away from my fangs as I look him over. His clothing is torn and stained with old blood. Bruises bloom and darken his skin.
He’s taken a beating.
His ankles are secured to the legs of the chair with metal cuffs, and duct tape has been wrapped around his legs up to his knees. Wrists secured with cuffs like his ankles, duct tape has been wrapped up his arms up to his elbows. More duct tape and a chain have been wrapped around his middle.
Yet his neck has been left bare and exposed.
He’s completely helpless and at my mercy.
“Chloe,” he moans again as I lean closer, smelling him.
He reeks. He smells not only of old blood but something foul and rotten.
Is he injured? I wonder, thinking perhaps he has a wound that is festering.
If he has an infection his blood could make me sick.
Leaning back, I weigh the risk. Seriously reconsidering drinking from him.
But then my stomach cramps, sending shivers of pain up my spine.
I have no choice.
Damn the consequences.
Holding the breath still in my lungs to fight his smell, I open my mouth once more, ready to bite.
Seeing his impending doom, the man screams behind his duct tape. “Chloe!”
Close to his mouth now, it’s very clear he’s actually saying my name. My hunger isn’t playing tricks on me. Somehow this bound man knows me.
Wrenching my gaze from the smooth skin of his neck, I force myself to look at his face.
Bloodshot eyes wide and wild, he stares back at me.
Then recognition strikes.
Those eyes… I knew a younger version of them in another time.
“Isaac?” I exhale, allowing my lungs to work again.
The man bobs his head up and down, his hair so sticky and greasy it doesn’t move, it clings to his forehead.
My blood running cold and rushing around my body, I reach out, grab the end of the duct tape slapped over his mouth, and rip it off.
“Fuck,” Isaac groans in pain.
Every inch of skin beneath his nose is red, angry, and irritated.
With his entire face exposed now, I rock back on my heels like I was just struck in the chest.
“What are you doing here? Why are you here?” I ask, looking him over again and seeing him with new eyes.
They’ve been hurting him. They’ve been torturing him...
Why?
“I’m here because I got caught by some mangy, flea-infested shifters when I was trying to rescue you,” Isaac answers before he moves his jaw from side to side as if he’s trying to work out a kink. “Don’t you remember?”
I start to shake my head but stop, thinking back. All at once, the memories that have been locked up in a box, the memories of how I got here, under Asher’s thumb, are released. Swarming through my head.
Nikolaos. Meeting Asher for the first time. Running with Charity. Calling Isaac.
I relive every moment as I remember them.
The longing and hunger in the shower.
Destroying my room. The phantom arms that comforted me.
Asher using Isaac to get me out of my house.
The promise.
“What have they been doing to you?” I growl, my fingers curling and wanting to turn into claws again.
Isaac looks down at my hands, at my fingers, then his eyes jerk back up to my face, full of apprehension. His Adam’s apple bobs before he licks his lips and asks, “Can we talk about it later?”