Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Gorsky. He’s thinking of Gorsky. Now I am, too. At least Gorsky only wanted me dead. Whitbine wanted—my stomach gives a warning twinge. I force my thoughts elsewhere, anywhere else but there.
“What happened to David?”
“He’ll be fine.”
“That’s not what I asked.” I curl up again.
“Whitbine brought a husk and set it loose. David went to investigate. Whitbine pounced and subdued David so he could get to you.”
“But David’s all right?”
“Worried about him?” he asks sharply.
“Yes.”
He sighs. “He’ll be fine. And you?”
“I’ll be …” I don’t know. I don’t know if I can be okay again.
Valen finishes cleaning and goes into the bathroom. When he returns, I watch him, his eyes meeting mine.
“You saved me.” I don’t know why the bridge of my nose is stinging, my vision going watery.
He moves slowly and sits beside me.
“How did you find me?” I close my eyes, then find I don’t like the dark. Not when I’m alone in it.
He glances away. “David.”
“You were close? I thought you were in Atlanta.”
“How far do you think Atlanta is?”
I curl up tighter. I’m too tired for games, too worn out and stretched thin. If he wants to ask me a question for a question, I’d rather be silent.
He sighs. “I was on my way back.”
“Oh.” I run a hand along my chest. My skin is healed there and also at my throat. I smell like soap, like Valen’s soap. He stripped me and washed me. I should be angry, embarrassed even. I’m not. I’m grateful every trace of Whitbine and his house of horrors is gone. I shiver.
“Did he …” Valen’s jaw clenches.
“No. He tried. He—” A sob overwhelms whatever I was going to say.
Valen’s hands fist, his body rigid as I cry. He doesn’t touch me, doesn’t comfort me. He simply stays. Somehow, that’s better. I don’t want to be touched. I just want to purge every horrible emotion. So I do.
After turning myself inside out until I can’t breathe from the strength of my fear, my sorrow, I finally pull in a shuddering breath. Smoother ones follow until I’m quiet. The awful memories are still there, the trauma from them still so raw and bloody that I can’t bear to look at them. But the tears were a slight release, at least for now. I know the horror will build up again, covering me like grave dirt until I burst through again, digging my way free with my bare hands. Only to be buried again. Slowly.
“He can’t hurt you ever again.” Valen’s voice is the touch of black moth, silky like shadow.
“What will happen when Gregor finds out you killed him?” I close my swollen, puffy eyes. The dark isn’t so bad when I know I’m not alone. “Will he torture you again?”
“Who told you?” he asks.
“Every time I see you, you look like you’re fervently ringing death’s doorbell, but maybe I’m just guessing.”
He’s silent.
“Okay, Fatima mentioned it.” I shrug one shoulder.
“Ah. I see.” He glowers. “I gave her strict parameters for her visit. She disregarded them.”
“She’s so different. Fatima always followed the rules. She practically wrote the rules. Now that she’s a vampire, she’s so …”
“She’s no different.”
“What? Yes, she is.”
“Becoming a vampire doesn’t instantly make someone vicious, little rabbit. That cruelty, or whatever it is, was always there beneath the surface.”
“No way. She was never like that. She wouldn’t even eat meat because she loved animals. I mean, come on. That’s practically saintly.”
“Underneath, she was something else. And now, in her current form, she’s free to wear it on the outside instead of masking it.”
I don’t know if I believe that. “She wasn’t a monster before.”
“She was. She was simply better at hiding it.”
I can’t deal with the additional emotion of frustration, so I backtrack. “You didn’t answer my question about Gregor, about what he does to you.”
He crosses his arms over his chest with a sigh. “Anything he does to me is nothing new. It becomes quite boring after a while.”
I don’t believe him. He’s suffering. Like knows like, I suppose.
“Gregor is still certain there’s a traitor in his ranks.”
“Is there?” I study him, his stark profile. Pale and sharp-angled, he’s as much stone as he ever was. But there are cracks now, more each time I see him.
He catches my eye, his gaze lingering on my face. “It just so happens I’ve discovered who was feeding intel to the humans and working with the disgruntled among our own ranks to oust the high lord. A traitor through and through, now unmasked by none other than the high lord’s Specter.”
I sniffle. “You mean Whitbine.”
He smirks. “It seems my little rabbit has a talent for subterfuge.”
“When you call me little rabbit, it’s like you calling me ‘bitch’ or ‘serf’ or ‘peasant’ or, I don’t know, something worse.”
“Is it?” he smirks, casual cruelty edging back into his demeanor. “Would you rather I call you one of those?”