Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
“I know all of this must feel very chaotic for you,” Lyric continues. “But I want you to know that you’re absolutely welcome here. Not because of your connection to Zachariah, but because of you. You're not only helping my mate by bringing him valuable information, but by unflinchingly joining the quest that we've been on for quite some time now to end this war between us and the Sons of Honor and the traitorous vampires who are working against us. You have friends here, as wild as that may sound since you just arrived last night.” She motions to Jocelyn, then returns her focus to me. “Not just us. There are plenty of females here who would gladly sit with you and hear your story.”
I shift a bit awkwardly in my seat, emotions storming me, the longing for companionship reaching out and clutching my heart with icy cold fingers.
It’s been too long since I had a group of females in my corner. The huntresses have started fading, either by choosing to hang up their jackets and pursue families, or being killed in battle. We aren't as common as we used to be centuries ago, just like the hunters, and where I once used to have no less than four huntresses at my back, I've been flying solo for longer than I can remember.
“I appreciate that,” I say, resisting the urge to add my queen to the end of it. I scoot back from the table, standing as Lyric and Jocelyn do the same. “I really do,” I continue. “But right now, I can barely wrap my head around my current predicament, let alone invite anyone else to commiserate on it with me. Besides, the mission is what matters.”
Jocelyn and Lyric share a look that screams sympathy and pity.
I clutch my weapons bag a little tighter.
“If you'll excuse me,” I say, dipping my head to Lyric again. “I'll be on my way.”
“But you'll come back?” Lyric asks.
I sigh, wishing I could tell her no. Wishing I could lose myself on the road and bury all of these conflicting emotions along the way.
“I will return,” I say. “Because the king expressed the need for me to be here.”
Jocelyn smirks at that answer, nodding at me. “Zachariah totally shit the bed on this one.”
A laugh, genuine and real and raw, rips from my lips, and it takes an effort to reel it in.
Maybe staying here for a little while won’t be so bad after all.
I catch the faintest hint of Conrad’s scent, just on the outskirts of lycan territory.
It's the same scent that drew me here in the first place—the one I've been chasing for far too long.
Of course, this could be another infant vampire Conrad created, the lightness of the smell certainly indicates as much, but I can't help the hope building in my chest that my months-long mission might be coming to an end.
If I capture him, I'll be able to deliver him and all the information he must have to the king. He's turned into a cruel and calculative bastard, the atrocities he’s recently enacted killing any hopes of bringing him to his senses. The horde of bloodmad vampires storming the territories to the humans with half or a quarter magical blood in their system being murdered in the hopes of transitioning them has his fingerprints all over it.
Not for the first time, I wonder what happened in the years since I’d seen him to turn him into such a malicious creature? Centuries ago, when we’d merely been friends, he’d been an optimist, excited and hopeful for the prospects of the future. He’d dreamed of claiming his seat in the king’s royal court—the century’s king, anyway. When did those aspirations get twisted out of him?
I keep my footsteps silent, preparing to breach lycan territory again, without permission, damning the consequences—
“Why are you hunting alone?” Zachariah's voice—though a whisper—might as well be an alarm blaring.
I jolt, whirling around, a dagger already out and at his throat. “Can you be any louder?” I hiss.
Zachariah glances down, eyeing the blade I have at his throat like I might remove it from that look alone.
I don't.
Slowly, gently, Zachariah grips my wrist, tugging the dagger away from his skin. “I whispered,” he says in a hushed tone. “And you're avoiding the question.”
I take a step away from him, spinning my dagger and sliding it back into the holster on my thigh.
“I've been working alone for centuries,” I finally answer. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I hate that I'm curious.
Hate that I'm hopeful.
Hate that I want him to drop to his knees and beg for my forgiveness, professes undying loyalty and love to me—
“We've been assigned to work together by order of the king,” he answers, so matter-of-factly it jerks all the fantasies right out of me.