Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
“I told you I would come alone,” I say, keeping my voice soft, almost a whisper. He preferred it when I was quiet, most of the time.
“Don’t fault the suspicion, my sweet,” he says, taking a step closer. “I’ve been betrayed enough times it’s natural to expect the worst.”
It’s all I can do to not roar at him. He’s been betrayed? He locked his own brother up and starved him for weeks on end. He turned on the other hunters. He’s killed innocent people. He kidnapped Avianna and me and did unspeakable things in an effort to seize royal control. All for what? Power? To be king?
“You look more refreshed than the last time we met,” he says, circling me on that stage.
“You were going to kill me the last time we met.” I dip my head under his examination.
“Oh, no, Rory. I was never going to kill you.” His eyes are full with pompous remorse, and I cringe at the nickname that marks my old self. “If Saint hadn’t wended after you on that rooftop, I would’ve. I promise. I would never have harmed my beloved.” He inhales deeply. “My mate.”
I swallow hard. The lies roll so easily off his tongue, it’s no wonder he had everyone fooled for so long. He presents himself as a sympathetic person, all confident tones and easy smiles.
“You didn’t know I was your mate then,” I say, tilting my head. “Did you?” I rub my hand over the mark on my neck.
“Sadly, no.” He slides his hands into his pockets. “I knew when I turned you, you were special. I’m sorry to say I didn’t realize how special.” He stares down at me, eyes dancing with ownership.
Good. Let him believe I’m his. I need him to trust me.
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” I say, curling my shoulders inward. “I didn’t realize it either. I was so confused.”
“It’s all right.” He hushes me with a smile. “We have the rest of our lives to figure it out. With your vote as the new Duchess of Somerhaul and the votes I’ve collected, I’ll take the throne as peacefully as I can. There will be some deaths, as there are in any regime change, but it will be for the greater good. You will be my queen and bear my heirs, and I’ll set right the wrongs Alek has done to our world.”
Acid creeps up my throat. He believes every word he says. He thinks he’s the solution to a problem that only exists in his mind and from his point of view.
“You must be starving,” he says, almost looking concerned. “I can smell my brother on you, but no human blood. It’s a shame they haven’t let you feed properly, but being my mate, everything would likely taste quite awful to you.”
“Not for you?” I ask.
He smirks. “It wouldn’t,” he explains. “I learned long ago, gorging on blood is the only way to take control of the thirst. Feeding has been a means to an end for me for a long time now. It’s only for sustenance and power. Not pleasure or connection.” He tilts his head. “Though, I suppose that may be different…” His eyes go a bit distant, contemplative. “With the mating bond between us.”
I lick my lips, letting my fangs slowly drop.
“Please.” Every cell in my body revolts at the idea of drinking his blood. At begging him for it. Guilt slides like an oily grime inside my soul. If Saint saw me do this, he’d feel so betrayed and he’d lose all sense of control.
Samuel takes a step closer, sliding out of his suit jacket before rolling up one of his sleeves. He bares his wrist to me. “Drink, my sweet.”
I tremble as I take his arm in my hands, my body remembering exactly all the things he’s done to me. It’s a constant battle for fight or flight, my instincts begging me to run the opposite direction before he shackles me in iron and riddles my body with ailments again. Before he cuts me, drinks from me, drains me, and heals me again.
I manage to stand still, to not let my feet carry me anywhere but closer to him. Saint deserves a free life. The people Samuel has wronged deserve to be free of him. The innocent beings he’s murdered deserve justice. The humans and supernaturals should have nothing left to fear of him and the Sons of Honor.
My power rumbles inside me, the thread pulsing for attention. I can feel it stretch awake and reach for Samuel’s lifeforce, like it recognizes who made me a vampire. I hate that it does, but relish the clear notion that it wants to take from him, as he’s taken so much from me. The sensation is like an itch, begging me to pull and drain the life from him like I’ve done with so many plants in practice.