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)
Rory died the night Samuel stole her, bit her, tortured her.
Aurora was born when she woke up in Saint’s arms.
I reach for the flower, doing my best to concentrate on the sensations Gabriel mentioned. If tugging is what kills the plants, then maybe pushing would be the thing to give them life.
Don’t pull, don’t tug, don’t pull…
The white petals fall off the green stems in clumps, the petals black as the potted soil.
Tears fill my eyes.
“We can try again tomorrow,” Gabriel offers, catching my gaze. “You have a well of power inside you. I can sense it. We all can. And managing that power takes time.”
Let’s just hope I figure out how to manage it before I accidentally kill something worse than a beautiful plant.
“Thank you.” I hurry out of his offices, more than ready to hide in my chambers. Do I have an itch to explore Edgemont beyond the safety of the king’s residence? Yes. Of course I do. Especially as a vampire. I’ve often fantasized about what the nightly supernatural life looks like, but…
I can’t. I know I can’t leave the protection of these walls. Not out of any fear that Samuel will snatch me again—clearly, he can do that from anywhere—but because of my hunger. The craving I can’t slake. If I ventured outside the king’s residence and ran into a human, smelled their blood, would I turn into a monster? Would I tear into them like I used to tear into chocolate croissants? The idea that I might hurt someone or worse, kill them from just a touch, is enough to keep me here.
Anger sears through me as I slam my bedroom door behind me. If I can kill by touch, why couldn’t I have ripped the life from Samuel when he grabbed me and dangled me off the roof? Why couldn’t I have been useful to my new family and channeled my power then?
Because I’d been petrified. Frozen in terror. One sight of his face, one feel of his poisonous touch, and I was instantly Rory again. A scared, naïve, weak woman.
“Aurora.”
I jolt at the sound, eyes flaring at the sight of Saint sitting in his favorite armchair near my bed. He’s slept there so many days before, watching my dreams. My own personal guardian from the nightmares that threaten my sanity. Warmth floods my body at his presence, a longing so fierce it steals the anger right out of me.
“Saint,” I breathe his name, relief uncoiling the tight thing inside me. “You scared me.”
He visibly swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know,” I hurry to say. “I only meant, I didn’t know you were here.” I hate that he sometimes thinks I’m afraid of him.
“I’ll try to be more visible next time.”
I laugh at that. “You’re best friends with the shadows,” I say. “I need to work on my situational awareness.” I need to work on a lot of things if I ever want to take back control of my life.
A flash of levity bursts in his eyes, his lips turning up at the corners, just a fraction. It’s such a rare and beautiful sight. Hunger streaks through me the second his scent of dark cherries, salt, and sage, hits my senses. God, I love that smell. It’s safety and stars and all things good in my new world. My fangs pulse, that thirst practically burning down my throat.
“I’ve brought you a volunteer feeder.” He rises from his seat.
“What?” I snap, scanning the room.
“She’s waiting outside.”
I hadn’t seen or smelled her, but I’d been deep in my thoughts when I stormed in here.
“I won’t touch her.” I shake my head, fear coating me.
“You need to feed,” he argues, towering in front of me now.
My fight-or-flight should kick in. It certainly did when Samuel ever stood over me like this. The twins are so damn tall and wide and packed with muscle. Either could crush me with half a thought. But I’m not afraid. My instincts don’t scream at me to run. Not with Saint.
Does that mean it’s his mark? Because I have zero fear of him when even his own brothers keep a watchful eye on him, fearful he’ll snap?
“I won’t,” I say more firmly. “Not from any of them.”
“Why?” he grumbles. “You have to be hungry.”
“I am,” I admit. “But I won’t feed from a human. Won’t touch one.” I swallow hard. “I can’t take the risk. I don’t want to hurt anyone, Saint. And the power in my touch…” I look down at my hands, hating that they have the ability to betray me. “I could just as easily drain the life from any volunteer as I could the blood from their veins.” I shiver at the thought. “I can’t take that risk.”
“You aren’t giving yourself enough credit,” he says, reaching his hand toward mine. He grazes my palm with his fingertip, the lightest of touches. It feels like lightning. “See? I’m still standing.”