Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“That’s it?” I asked, staring at the six blood bags that now dripped steadily into the tombs. “We flew all the way here to set up a drip?” I glared at the bag in my hands. Blood would ensure the survival of our species, and yet we’d lost our entire reserve while I’d been at the fucking ballet.
“That’s it.” Olivia’s smile fell as she studied me. “You were expecting something a little more…grandiose?” She drummed her fingertips on the marble as three of the four doors shut around us.
“To say this is anticlimactic would be an understatement.” I gritted my teeth and ignored the hunger gnawing in my belly.
“Well, it’s a slow process,” she said gently, her eyes going soft. “Too much blood and they bloat and die. Not enough, and they starve and die.”
“And in the meantime we…what? Dance and go to shows?” I snapped.
“When you put it that way—”
“It sounds just as wasteful as it is. We’re partying it up while our friends are fighting our war. Fuck this.” I walked out of the vault, and Olivia followed, shutting the door behind her.
“We’re stuck here for the next ten days regardless of what you think,” she hissed as she walked past me, striding up the stairs.
“Shit,” I muttered, already regretting my words as I trudged up behind her. I may have stuck my foot in my mouth, but at least I had a great view of her ass.
The only thing worse than a three-a.m. cocktail party was getting the silent treatment from Olivia at the fucking party.
Feeding hadn’t taken the edge off my frustration, and the swirling anger in my stomach only intensified as I stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching the aristocrats of our species celebrate the survival of it…knowing that survival wasn’t guaranteed.
Could we rebuild Onyx Industries? No.
The name was now a target. We’d need a new shelter, new location, new security, and all new blood. We could fill our stock with the synthetic kind that Olivia’s family had pioneered—that would allow us to sustain life, but to thrive? To grow warriors the size of the Assassins? That was only possible with human blood.
I folded my arms across my chest and watched Olivia on the other side of the dance floor. Her hair was down, resting against the small of her back, and her dress was short, red, and held the attention of every unattached male in the room...and some of the married ones. Mates never looked away from their partner, but vampires who only took the vows of marriage and not the bonds of mates had a tendency to let their eyes—and hands—wander.
“Are you competing?” Zasha asked as she came to stand beside me.
“I’d honestly forgotten there were competitions,” I admitted, trying to keep the disgust out of my voice.
Olivia came our way, her gaze locking with mine in a battle all its own.
“Tonight is dance, but tomorrow is archery,” a smile tugged at Zasha’s lips. “If I had a partner, that’s the one I’d win.”
“I’m not dancing.”
Olivia hitched an eyebrow, clearly having heard me, and paused halfway across the dance floor that was filling with partners.
“Pity.” Zasha glanced sideways at me. “Olivia is a tremendous dancer.”
“She certainly moves like one.” She’d always been lithe in the ring, her strength resting in her speed and agility.
“She told me what happened to the blood bank,” she added quietly. “I can only imagine how pissed you have to be that something like that goes down while you’re here. In a tie. Sipping fake blood.”
There was no denying my aggravation, so I nodded, narrowing my eyes as a male in custom Armani embraced Olivia less than ten feet away.
Who the fuck…
I attuned my hearing, concentrating on my mate and blocking out the whir of couples on the floor, all taking their place for tonight’s contest.
“Oh, I didn’t realize Felix was here,” Zasha whispered.
“Who the hell is Felix?” I didn’t bother lowering my voice. And why the fuck is he looking at Olivia like she’s on the menu?
The male took her hand and pressed a kiss to the top of it, mere inches from the mark that declared her mine. My fangs erupted, and a low sound vibrated through my chest.
“Easy now,” Zasha teased. “They weren’t together long. Only a decade or so. I don’t think he’s ever really gotten over her, though.”
He was her fucking ex? My vision went thermal, and I slid into the zone where I was more predator than male. His arms were thin. Weak. Easily snappable.
Get yourself under control. I slammed my eyes shut and counted to ten, sighing with relief that my vision had returned to normal when I opened them.
“I thought maybe you could use a partner,” he said to Olivia, smiling at her with teeth that had been whitened to the point they were almost blue.