Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
I raise my voice over the bacon’s sizzle. “Jordy, did you hear? I asked if you dreamed again.”
“I heard.”
I raise a brow. Is she playing games, trying to resist me? This is the opposite of sir. Is she pushing for punishment? “And?”
“I had them again.” She keeps her eyes on the table. Her reluctance only makes me want to push more. I need to question her, anyway. With any other witness, I’d have done it long ago, instead of coddling her and letting her sleep. Fates, she has me off my game.
“Were they bad dreams?” I’m not letting her off so easily.
Her forehead creases. “Yes.”
“Was it about Augustine?
“No. Another vampire.”
“A vampire Augustine loaned you out to?”
She shrugs. Not a direct answer but I don’t push it. I set the bacon aside and start on the eggs and sausage. For all her reluctance to answer my questions, she’s at ease. Her fingers fiddle with items on my table—a pen, a stack of old junk mail.
Maybe I don’t have to do this the hard way. “How’d you get to be with Augustine anyway?”
She mumbles something. I set a cover on the frying pan, go to her and tip her chin up. “Tell me.”
“My family sold me.” She doesn’t look in my eyes. Her cheeks grow pink.
I swallow my anger and release her, but don’t move away. “Why?”
“Too many mouths to feed. My clan was getting too big, harder to hide. Foxes have to hide.”
I grunt in understanding. Prey animals usually survive by hiding.
“I also broke the rules,” she offers after a moment.
“How?”
“I helped a stranger. Someone outside of the clan, but a blood relative. She was searching for my older brother, and I gave her information to help her. But it put the clan in danger, so when there was a chance to get rid of me, they took it.”
“That’s fucked up,” I growl. Her face falls.
“How did they sell you to Augustine?”
She shrugs, looking miserable. “There were these men in dark masks. They smelled blank, like their scent was wiped away. Then there was an auction, and I ended up with Augustine.”
I should be focused on this information and be relentless about asking her follow-up questions to find out as much as I can about the shifter slavers, but I can’t. All I can focus on is Jordy. Her shoulders are up by her ears, her scent sad and ashamed. No wonder she doesn’t want questions about her past. She’s probably toning down the horrible way she’s been treated, letting the memories fade. If I’d been through all that, I’d have nightmares too.
I grip her shoulder. I want to comfort her, but what am I gonna say? “It’s okay.” Is it me or does she lean into my hand a little before I remove it?
I go back to making breakfast. We fall into silence, but Jordy doesn’t seem to mind. She’s comfortable sitting where I told her to sit, sifting through things on the table. She even picks up a pen and starts doodling in the corners of an old coupon flyer.
“Why do you think he wanted you?”
Still drawing with the pen, she answers readily. “I’m a submissive.”
“So?”
“Sweetblood. That’s what they call us.”
“I thought sweetbloods were all human.”
“No. There are human submissives.” She’s got her head down, still doodling. “But Augustine says they take work.”
I lean back on the counter as I think about this. “Humans submissives need to be seduced and coddled. And you can’t just make them disappear. But buy a prey shifter at an auction and you can do what you want.”
“Right.”
“You were already off the radar in hiding with your clan. To the world, you don’t exist.”
She shrinks a little more. The pen in her hand stills.
“Jordy.” I wait until her gaze flicks to me. “I’m not asking about this because I want to. It’s part of my job.”
A pause and she gives a short nod. It’s not much, but it makes my bear feel better.
Jordy
Grizz bends over the stove, his corded biceps bunching as he stirs the sizzling meat. He covers the pan and heads to the fridge, rummaging around there for another package wrapped in butcher’s paper. He moves fluidly for such a big guy. His powerful bulk flows from the fridge to the stove and the controlled grace of his movements makes my breath flutter in my chest.
My fox is fascinated by him. I have to admit, she has a point. He’s so large and rugged, he belongs on a mountain, chopping down trees. On a construction site, working with his hands. Or in a war zone, unleashing the violence I sense inside him. Watching him cook in the kitchen is like having Godzilla knit you a sweater. The great and powerful executing the mundane. Every little domestic thing he does is a miracle.
“What did Augustine do once he had you?” he asks. I focus on my hands and the point where the pen touches the paper. The ink leaks out easily and I doodle swoops and swirls. A flowered vine grows in the margin of the faded newspaper.