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)
At this point, I burst into tears. I can’t help it. Fear owns me completely. I have never been so scared in my life. Not even when Lucas turned me, which is saying something. Speaking of my sire, I would dearly love to know where he is right now.
All three of the assholes start laughing at me. Guess I make a pretty pathetic figure, sitting on the ground, sobbing. My leg is sheer agony. I am helpless, and I hate it.
“Let’s get a drink,” says one vampire to the other. Then he turns to the human. “Watch her.”
“What?” asks the human in a high-pitched voice. “You’re leaving me on my own?”
“It’s not like she’s going anywhere with a broken femur,” the second vampire scoffs. “That’s why we bled her, you idiot. So she wouldn’t have the strength to heal herself. And she’s too new to be able to compel you. That shit takes years to learn.”
The human frowns his whole heart out. “Yeah, but—”
“You’re not actually scared of this pitiful, bawling newborn, are you? All you have to do is stand here and keep an eye on her. Just don’t get too close. You’ll be fine.”
“He’ll be here soon,” says the first vampire. And a word appears inside my head, surrounded by a wary sort of respect. Marc. Which makes perfect sense.
Then the two vampires walk out, shutting the door behind them. The way it echoes hollowly is like something out of a horror film.
I huddle on the floor, sniffling. The pain in my leg is easing ever so slowly as the bone knits itself back together. Thank goodness. But fuck, it hurts. Having a bone broken and feeling it heal just might be the most excruciating thing ever.
It is not, however, unusual for me to be underestimated. In work environments, by boyfriends, etcetera. And this situation is no different. If they think I’m going to sit here docilely waiting to get tortured, they are kidding themselves. I refuse to end like this. These assholes will not be what kills me. Not when me being undead was starting to show such promise.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I whisper, watching him through my lashes.
“Shut up,” he says, staring off at the wall.
“I can turn you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s why you’re with them?”
The human pulls a gun no doubt loaded with wooden bullets out of the back of his pants. His brows draw tight together as he frowns.
“Don’t you want to be immortal and live forever?”
“You were only just turned. You probably can’t even do that yet.”
“But I was turned by the Woodsman. His blood is stronger than his brother’s. You know that, right?”
He shrugs and scowls at the ground. But he’s listening. I have his attention.
“And I’m his favorite,” I say with a forced smile. I really should have been practicing this mind control stuff before now. More than just the one time with Henry. But I push as hard as I can, forcing my focus onto him, all while searching again for the still and silent part of my mind. The place where other people’s words and feelings seem to appear to me out of nowhere. This has to work. It just has to. “He gave me those diamond earrings. Help me, and he’ll give you even more. He’s got cars and jewels and whatever you want.”
“Look, would you just…”
And I have him. It actually works! The muscles in his face slacken and his gaze goes dazed. That’s the thing with humans…they’re trained from a young age to look at people when speaking to them. Hooray for having good manners.
“Get the chains off me,” I say. “Now.”
He rushes to do my bidding, dropping the gun on the floor in the process. A couple of layers of my skin peel away with the silver chains, which stings like hell. But at least I’m free. My leg doesn’t want to support me at first. A break obviously takes a while to heal. I, however, don’t have time to waste. The great thing about a background in administration is the ability to give clear and concise instructions under pressure.
“Pick up your gun and go shoot the vampires outside,” I order. “Be quick. Use all your bullets. Aim to kill.”
He all but runs for the door with his weapon back in hand. I limp over to the selection of torture implements. I’m going to need all the help I can get. The long, sharp, serrated knife is tempting. Same goes for the hammer. But in the end, I grab the old baseball bat with a selection of truly dubious dark stains in the wood. Keeping some distance between me and them seems smart. Not having to get in quite so close to cause the most damage is paramount.
I swing it a time or two to test my arm. It’s about time my childhood P.E. classes come in handy for something.