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)
Then, the sensory storm recedes. The noise fades to a distant hum and the press of bodies vanishes. He sets me down on my feet, his hands lingering on my waist until he’s sure my trembling legs will hold.
Before us rise the gates, towering and seamless. No handle, no lock—just immense, iron bars that block the path back to the Central Hub.
“How are we going to get through?” My voice sounds small, swallowed by the dense silence around the gate. “When I tried to get through before, they wouldn’t budge. Not even a crack.”
Lucian looks grim, his aristocratic features carved from marble in the dim light.
“If you haven’t figured it out yet, little one, every gate in the Shadow Realm demands a sacrifice.”
“Yes, I figured that out,” I say, slightly impatiently. “The gates to your, uh, kingdom opened when I stuck myself on one of the thorns and gave them some blood. But this gate wouldn’t take my blood—I know because I tried it when I was trying to get out earlier.”
He nods once—a sharp, precise motion.
“It’s true, the gates to my world—to the Bleeding Court—they demand blood to get out. But not all gates want the same thing. The gates to the Gilded Warrens demand treasure or gold, and the gates to the Hollow Necropolis require a piece of your soul. The gates to the Savage Den require an act of violence to pass, and the Briar Court needs Fae magic—a glamour.” His eyes, dark as a starless midnight, hold mine. “Every realm guards its borders with a price that reflects its nature.”
A shiver that has nothing to do with cold traces my spine.
“So what do these gates want to let us pass?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps closer, his body radiating a heat that seems at odds with his vampiric nature. He looks into my eyes, his gaze intense enough to pin me in place.
“Think, little one. What is the Carnal Bazaar all about? Why did the Demon Don want to keep you?”
My mind races, tripping over the memory of Kael’s hands on me, his voice slick as oil in my ear.
‘Such potent lust magic…’
Sudden realization hits me, hot and embarrassing.
“He said… he said I had lust magic,” I whisper, the words feeling illicit on my tongue.
“And so you do, my lovely one.”
His voice drops to a velvet rumble. He reaches up and strokes my cheek with the backs of his knuckles. The touch is shockingly gentle, but it ignites a line of fire straight from my face to the spot between my legs. Is it still the residue of the spell Kael was using on me, or is it—as Lucian claimed earlier—that his touch arouses me because I’m his Fated Mate?
I can’t tell and to be honest, I don’t care. My skin feels too tight…too sensitive. Every nerve ending is screaming for more of his contact. I feel like I’m right on the edge of combustion—a dry pile of kindling waiting for his spark.
“Lust,” I breathe and the word itself is a confession.
“Exactly.” He nods, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “These gates demand an act of lust. Which I will now perform on you, little one.”
“What?” The word comes out as a shocked gasp.
I jerk my head back, looking around wildly. There’s no one right by the gates, but we’re out in the open, at the end of a wide avenue. Shadows are moving in the distance. Someone could walk up at any time and see us!
“Right here? In public?” I demand.
“I’m afraid so,” he murmurs, not sounding afraid at all. He leans down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. His breath is cool, but it sends a wave of heat crashing over me. “Don’t worry. I can be discreet.”
Then his mouth is on mine, and all coherent thought dissolves as I get lost in his kiss.
He kisses me, and it’s nothing like I’ve ever known. It’s not tentative or questioning—it’s a claiming.
His lips are firm, demanding my surrender, and I’m ashamed to say, I give it willingly. The taste of his mouth is incredible—like hot cinnamon candy and aged wine—dark, spicy, and addictive. He’s so big, so solid, he seems to surround me completely, his broad shoulders blocking out the eerie light, the world narrowing to just the two of us. One of his hands cups the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair, holding me steady for his exploration.
Emboldened by the taste of him, by the dizzying rightness of it, I dare to trace the line of his lips with my tongue. I find the sharp, distinct points of his fangs. A thrill of danger—electric and potent—shoots through me. I press a little closer, curious, tracing the lethal curve with the tip of my tongue until…ow!
A sharp sting, and the coppery tang of my own blood floods my mouth. I flinch, starting to pull away with a soft sound of surprise.