Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
My heart was pounding so fast, I was certain everyone in the too-silent mess hall could hear it. What am I supposed to do? If I confirm I’m wearing a glamour, won’t that make him able to see through it? This guy was hostile to me when he thought I was a demon. What would he do when his sees I’m a human woman?
That thought stopped me cold. Everything I knew about werewolves came from fiction novels and teen movies. Would he hurt me? Would he turn me in? Would he lock me up in some secret basement in the academy, and breed me for half-werewolf hybrids? How would I know?! Where is Sabrina when I need her!
This guy wasn’t letting my silence slow him down. “Well, if you’re going around throwing sorrys all over the place, you can’t be a leech or fae either,” he mused. “And if you were a werewolf”—he inhaled a deep breath, expanding that hard, lickable chest—“I’d smell it, glamour or no, so— Ahhhh...”
A grin curled into his cheeks, and popped free a dimple that made me blush like a silly mare. I wasn’t used to being in close proximity to men this handsome.
“You’re one of the Others,” he announced. “And you’re not allowed to enroll in Abaddon, so you showed everyone up during the trials, and then got yourself enrolled here because fuck the rules. Nice.” He delivered a punch to my shoulder that almost popped me out of my seat. “Good for you, throwing these stupid enrollment rules back in their fucking faces.” He spat out a thoroughly gnawed turkey bone, and then descended on a leg of lamb. “No one wanted me here either, but who gives a shit what anyone else wants? No one tells me what to fucking do, or where to fucking go. We’re the same,” he announced, smiling into my eyes even though I had yet to say a word, and said smile was giving me heart palpitations.
He dropped his voice. “But between you and me, which one of them are you? Because I’ve never heard of any of the Others having an affinity with hellhounds. Are you an ogre? Nymph? Fury?”
“Uhhh...” My brain fritzed out. “Maybe you could tell me your name before asking me my deepest, darkest secret?”
He laughed—a loud, booming sound that made Ronin stir.
Almost a quarter of the demons in the room straight dropped their forks and walked out at Ronin’s slight twitch.
“Fair enough.” The werewolf held out his hand. “I’m Tristan.”
“Tristan,” I repeated, rolling it around on my tongue. “Nice to meet you, I’m Char... lie. Charlie.”
I raised my hand to shake, but Tristan’s hand glanced off my knuckles.
Grasping my wrist, he pulled me forward and wiped his mouth on my ruffled sleeve. “Cool to meet you too, Charlie,” he said over my outraged choking. “Look, we’re probably not going to talk again, because now that Ronin’s got his hooks in you, you’ll be dead before the end of the day.”
What?!
“But you tried it, man,” he continued, unaware of my panic. “You came here for your people, and even though you’re gonna fail, you still got this far, and that should be recognized by someone.” Tristan clapped me on the shoulder—the friendly touch of someone who thought your life was already over. “Oh, hey, aren’t you hungry?”
I flicked to his plates of succulent, spiced meats. My stomach grumbled before I could answer. “Actually, yes,” I admitted. “I’m starved.”
“Then you better go fucking get something.” Tristan rose up, taking his two plates with him. “But don’t even think of waking him up,” he tossed over his shoulder. “No reason you should bring your execution forward.”
“What— Wait,” I called as loud as I could without doing what he just told me not to. “Who is he? You haven’t told me who he is!”
Tristan carried his meat out the door, his laughter taunting me the whole way.
Chapter Six
It took me taking off my awful, Middle Ages ruffled-nightmare tunic, and gently easing it under his head, but I was able to escape my new companion, and grab a muffin before hightailing it out the door. And yes, I was shocked to see that hell had muffins, but maybe I shouldn’t have been? Hell was such a terrible nightmare of awfulness, it was hard to believe there could be anything good here. But then again, maybe that’s why baked deliciousness made it to the afterlife.
Because existing in this place was so awful, the denizens clung to anything small thing that could bring about happiness or pleasure—like good food. Either way, it was nice to see something normal amid a sea of strange.
I charged through the halls and up to my room, bursting through the door.
Sabrina poked her head up from the tangle of her coiled body—observing me from her comfortable spot before the fire. “Ah, you’re alive,” she breezed. “How unfortunate.”