Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Well, maybe he’s just distracted. I should probably give him another chance—give him the benefit of the doubt.
I turn back to look at him.
“Lucian,” I say. “About last night…”
“Hm?” He looks up from his papers. “Ah yes—are you feeling better this morning? The need is gone?”
“Oh, um, yes. Yes, I—thank you,” I say awkwardly.
“Good. I’m glad.” He nods distractedly. “You look ravishing today, by the way. You’d better hurry if you want to spend time with Hanna before the two of you go home.”
His words hit me like a bucket of ice water.
“Wait…did you say both of us are going home? As in, both Hanna and me going back to the Human world?”
“Why yes, isn’t that what you wanted?” He raises an eyebrow. “From the moment I brought you here, you’ve been looking for a way back to the Human world… back to your old life. And I know you’ll want to be with Hanna, to be sure she’s safe as the two of you cross back through the In-between.”
My heart cracks at his casual tone—at the easy way he’s parting from me.
So that’s it. Whatever he said before…whatever he promised…whatever last night was to me, clearly he didn’t feel it. And this connection I feel to him now—well, I guess it’s purely one-sided.
He got what he wanted, and now he’s done. Just like all of the human guys I’ve dated in the past. It meant nothing to him—nothing but a way to get his dick wet.
You’re so stupid, Jules, I scold myself, trying not to cry. Such an idiot, thinking he cared.
But I won’t let the tears fall—I won’t let him see how much it hurts me. I lift my chin, refusing to let him see how much this casual parting is hurting me—how it’s tearing me up inside.
“Oh, uh, yes. Yes, of course.” My voice is steady despite everything. “Thank you for letting me go back with her.”
“Of course, my darling—I can’t keep you here with me if you wish to go home. I care for you too much for that.”
The words should sound kind but they don’t. They sound casual…final.
Dismissive.
They sound like a door closing in my face.
I nod once, afraid that if I speak again my voice will betray me.
Unable to trust myself, I turn and leave the room quickly, the soft carpet blurring beneath my feet as one thought pounds through my head over and over again.
Men are all alike.
Human or vampire—it doesn’t matter.
Once they get what they want, they can’t wait to get rid of you.
63
Jules
I tell myself I don’t have time to feel hurt.
There are bigger things at stake than my bruised heart—like my best friend’s life. Like her soul getting sucked out of her body.
Still, the ache sits in my chest as I make my way down the corridor toward Hanna’s room—a dull pressure that won’t go away no matter how hard I try to shove it aside.
Focus, Jules. Hanna needs you, I lecture myself. I’ll just have to get over it—I’ve gotten over men before. It’s just that none of them called me his “Queen” and treated me so well. I think it hurts more because Lucian was so possessive just hours ago…and now he’s willing to never seen me again.
I try to push the thoughts aside as I reach Hanna’s room. When I open the door, the first thing I see is Mr. Mittens.
He’s curled protectively on the bed, a black-and-white loaf of fur tucked near the pillows like a sentry on duty. The moment he spots me, he lifts his head, hops down, and pads over with a soft, indignant mrrrow, pressing his forehead into my shin.
“Good morning to you too,” I murmur, bending to scratch behind his ears.
He purrs immediately, loud and insistent, headbutting my hand. I pet him absently as my gaze lifts to Hanna.
She’s dressed and sitting on the loveseat in front of the fire, hands folded in her lap. A plate of brunch sits untouched on the side table beside her—flaky pastries, fruit, Eggs Benedict, warm and steaming which I know for a fact is her favorite…but it looks as though she hasn’t even taken a bite.
She looks wrong.
I would say she’s pale, but pale doesn’t begin to describe it. Her skin has taken on a strange translucence, like moonlight through thin parchment.
For a horrible second, it almost feels like I can see through her, as though she’s halfway gone already.
Fear stabs straight through my heart.
“Hanna? Are you all right?” I hurry over and sit on the loveseat beside her.
She turns her head slowly, eyes unfocused and dreamy in a way that makes my stomach clench.
She reminds me—absurdly, almost painfully—of the heroine from that historical romance Book Club read last month. Ashes at Dawn. The one with the frail young woman who spent the entire book coughing up blood—which everyone knows is the universal symbol of “oh, she has TB and she’s definitely going to die”—while the wicked rake fell hopelessly in love with her.