Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
But then I’m back. Right here. And I instantly understand that there’s no way in hell this is going to work.
Because these people do not want salvation.
The place we step into is not the bar Pell and I visited what seems like a lifetime ago. Not the place where we drank good whiskey and had sex in the office. It’s… it’s… Vegas. Like… I’m talking everything you can imagine happening there is happening here.
Sex? Yeah. Everywhere I look there are wood nymphs in the laps of satyrs, gyrating and moaning.
Gambling? There are slot machines, and spinning wheels, and card games going on all around us. Monsters I don’t recognize—probably because they were statues the last time I passed by them—are yelling and fist-pumping as they throw money around. Not dollars, either. It’s some other kind of money. Red and black. Like everything is paid for in sins.
Strippers? Oh, not just strippers—wood nymphs who slither around a pole to the beat of the thumping music—but naked barmaids, too. Who carry trays of flaming shots and bend over to get their asses slapped by ‘customers.’
“Well.” Pell is pointing to the stage. “We found Nysta.”
“Oh, shit.” She’s one of the strippers slithering around the pole. I didn’t recognize her at first because she’s wearing fake horns and claws and a black leather bikini with silver spikes sticking out of it in very strategic places. Initially, I’m a little grossed out, but then I’m relieved. “At least I didn’t kill her.”
Suddenly the music stops.
Everyone looks around, wondering what the fuck. The strippers stop, the gamblers complain, but the sex keeps going so that there’s nothing but the grunting sound of satyrs and wood nymphs filling the void.
Until he speaks. “Well. Well. Well.” We all turn to look at the far end of the inordinately large bar. It was not this big when we were in here last, so there is a lot of magic going on here. Eros is sitting on a throne made of something black and shiny that looks like stone. Maybe obsidian or onyx. His bat wings flank his bare, powerful shoulders. The leather pants are still there, but he’s shirtless now, his muscular chest covered in tattoos that from this distance look like the roots of trees. His crossbow is propped up on his knee and there is a woman at his feet, kind of draped over his lap.
Not just any woman, either. But—
“Jacqueline!” I start to rush forward. My only goal is to get to her, but Pell pulls me back. His grip is tight at first, but he quickly loosens it when I don’t fight him.
“Finally,” Eros says. He pushes Jacqueline off him so he can stand. She looks up at him with adoration. Like he’s her god.
And I know what’s happening here. Maybe he can’t hit Jacqueline with his arrow and make her fall in love with him, but he doesn’t have to. He’s an eros.
The Eros.
Everyone loves him. They can’t help it. It’s magic, or maybe even science. The Law of Attraction.
And even as I think these thoughts, I start to get a warm feeling in my gut. Like maybe I love him too.
But in the next moment, Pell squeezes my hand. Like he knows Eros is affecting me and he’s reminding me of who I belong to.
I squeeze his hand back and rein in the desire to be close to the demon-looking god standing in front of his throne.
Eros frowns. “Where is Tarq!” He howls this. Like thunders it through the room. It shakes the chandeliers above our heads and rumbles the floor. People scatter to the edges, pressing against walls, covering their heads and ducking. Even the satyrs having sex stand up, holding onto the asses of their nymphs, and carry them to a safer location.
Pell takes a breath. “He’s dead.”
Eros laughs. A loud, bellowing laugh.
But then it’s interrupted by a scream that pierces our ears. “What!” Nysta is still standing on the stage in her spiked leather. Her expression is one of shocked surprise, her gaze on Pell.
Slowly that gaze changes focus until it lands on me. “You.” She points at me. “You did this!”
I didn’t do anything to Tarq. Literally played zero part in that whole ‘king’ thing. And I’m just about to say this when she leaps off the stage and comes flying at me. At first, the thought of her attacking me from clear across the room is laughable. But then I realize she’s still in the air, still coming my way, like she’s actually gonna make it.
I put up my arm to block her attack, and then, just as suddenly, she’s pulled out of the air by her foot and slammed into the floor. She squeals again, this time in pain, and then she breaks down in tears.
It takes me a moment to work out what just happened. Eros has crossed the room. His wings are folding against his back.