Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“And that’s why you went to sleep?”
“Their deaths weighed on me for various reasons. It would seem I was premature in mourning my brother, however.” He watches me in silence for a moment, before saying, “After Ana broke my dark and creepy heart, as you called it, I tended to steer clear of anyone who reminded me of her. Until you. I won’t let him hurt you, Skye.”
“When did all of this start between you and your brother?”
“Arthur had just defeated the Saxons at the Battle of Badon.”
“Wait. King Arthur? I thought he wasn’t real.”
He shrugs. “The mythology surrounding him is mostly nonsense, but the man himself was real enough.”
“What year was it?”
His lips skew to the side in annoyance. The dude definitely has hang-ups about his age. “Around the start of the sixth century.”
“You’re, um, fifteen-hundred years old?”
“Give or take.”
“You are one-thousand-and-five-hundred years old. Approximately. And you’ve been carrying that picture of her around the entire time. That’s either dedication or taking the idea of emotional baggage way too far.” My eyes must be as wide as the moon. “But you know I’m not her.”
“Oh, I know. Ana was soft-spoken. You have yet to have a thought cross your mind that you don’t believe needs announcing.”
“You really think you’re the first person to tell me I’m too loud or too much?” I ask with a bitter smile.
His gaze turns hard. “Who said that to you?”
Ignoring his question, I ask one of my own. “Why did you really turn me?”
“Who insulted you in such a manner, Skye? I want their name.”
“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore,” I say. “Answer the question. Why did you turn me?”
“I’ve already given you my reasons for that.”
“Let’s revisit them just once more for old time’s sake,” I say, picking up a heavy gold fountain pen off the desk. It’s tempting to throw it at him, but he would only catch it. “I reminded you of your first love.”
“For a moment. Yes. But the reason I turned you, Skye, was because neither Henry nor Benedict were where they were supposed to be. I woke up in a new century I didn’t understand. I knew you’d be useful in helping me adapt.”
I snort.
“Were you hoping for more?”
“No.”
“Very well then. We’ve covered the reason why I turned you.” He cocks his head. “But would you like to know why you’re still sleeping in my bed?”
“Because you don’t trust me on my own, along with the added bonus that you know it annoys me. You’d think pettiness fades with age, but apparently not.” I toss the heavy pen back onto the desk and get to my feet. “We’re done here. Thanks for finally telling me what’s going on. Move, please.”
Lucas stays put with his back to the door. “Make me.”
“I’m not in the mood to play.”
“That’s a pity, because I am.”
“Then go find Monica,” I say.
And the moment the words are out of my mouth, I know they’re a mistake.
“Who?” His dark brows draw together. “You mean the human I drank from the other night? The one on Henry’s payroll?”
“Henry really pays her?”
“Some are willing to sell their blood.” He gazes down at me with curiosity. “You’re jealous. But I was barely with her long enough to feed. Why be jealous?”
“I am not jealous.”
“Yes, you are. But all of your emotions are heightened right now. And since I’m your sire, it’s normal to feel drawn to me. It’s not usually something I encourage, but in your case, I’ve decided to make an exception.”
“Ha. No. Don’t do me any favors.”
“Come here,” he orders.
I feel the corresponding tug inside my chest. And it’s not like I didn’t ask him not to use the compulsion crap on me. “Fuck you.”
His smile has more than a flash of fang. “Fuck me yourself, you coward.”
“Great. You’ve discovered memes.” And I kind of hate myself for asking, but I really want to know. “Are you still in love with Ana?”
“No. Of course not. She was a good woman. But she’s been dead for over a millennia. Now come here.”
I shake my head and go to take a step back. But he moves forward and grabs the armholes on the front of my tank, including the lace bra straps beneath. I push against his rock-hard chest and get approximately nowhere. “Let go of me.”
“No. Never,” he says adamantly. “Especially when that’s not what you really want.”
“Like you know what I want. You are such a—”
Suddenly he’s moved us and reversed our positions. My back is hard against the door. As much as I’d like to knee him in the balls, he’s maneuvered us so that his booted feet are between mine. His body is pressing against mine from knees to chest. All I can do is push at his chest or grip his arms, and neither move does a damn thing.