Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Stop him! it seemed to be crying—I swore I could almost hear its voice in my mind. Stop him—he’s getting away!
Maybe that was what made me speak—what made me call out to him, though every instinct I had told me I should stay silent and let him pass. Griffin was a predator—seeing him in the darkness like this, I knew it to my bones. He was a killer and his kind preyed on mine. I had the feeling of a rabbit calling back a hawk that had wheeled by overhead or an antelope calling out to a lion.
But still I spoke.
“You’re wrong, you know,” I called to his back, when he was already halfway out the door.
Griffin turned, his eyes gleaming silver in the dim moonlight spilling in through the half open door. He seemed to deliberate for a moment—almost to struggle with himself—and then he let the door close and came striding back to stand in front of me, even closer than before.
“Wrong about what, little witch?” he murmured in that cool, silky voice of his. The voice a snake might use before it struck.
“I…I’m not a witch,” I told him, lifting my chin and meeting his eyes, though he radiated danger the way another male might radiate body heat.
“Oh no? Then what are you, Megan Latimer?” he drawled, putting emphasis on my last name.
“I’m just a Null,” I went on doggedly. “I can’t even light a candle with magic. I don’t have any magic—I don’t belong here.”
“Yet, here you are. Putting yourself in harm’s way. Why?”
He reached out and gently—oh so gently—stroked one long, cool finger down my hot cheek. The key jumped at his touch and so did my heart. I was beginning to feel like I couldn’t get a deep enough breath.
“I…I don’t know,” I whispered. And then—either daringly or stupidly added—“Are you the harm you’re talking about?”
“Maybe.”
His fangs had grown as he talked—I could see them glimmering when his lips moved, long and curving just under his lush upper lip. He tilted my chin up, holding my eyes with his own and leaned over me. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me or maybe bite me and indeed, I felt his cool breath against my lips, though his mouth never touched mine.
“You should stay away from me, Megan Latimer,” he murmured. “Far…far away, little witch. Don’t you know our kinds don’t mix?”
“They don’t? Why…why not?” I asked breathlessly.
“Do you really have to ask?” he said, his voice as silky and seductive as dark chocolate.
Poisoned chocolate, I thought, feeling strangely drugged. One bite would kill you but it would taste so good and feel so smooth going down.
It was then that I knew what his bite would be like. What it would feel like to surrender and feel his fangs sink deep in my throat. A pain so sweet you could die of it.
My flight or fight response had kicked in, but in a most peculiar way. My brain was screaming that I ought to run—run as far and as fast as I could to get away from him. But my body wanted only to get closer—to feel those lean, muscular arms wrapped around me, pulling me close to his broad chest. He radiated coolness the way a human male would radiate heat. It was like standing next to an iceberg and yet I only wanted to get closer.
But when I stepped towards him, Griffin stepped abruptly back.
“No!” he muttered and I had the sense he was talking more to himself than to me. “No, I can’t.”
“Griffin?” My stupid body took another step towards him. Honestly, did I want to be hurt or killed? Or maybe the right word was exsanguinated. Wasn’t that the term for when a body was drained of all blood?
“Stay away from me, Megan Latimer.” His eyes flashed like lightning in the dim hallway. “It’s easier for me and safer for you.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t…don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. You really are ignorant of all this, aren’t you?” He shook his head incredulously. “When I first saw you this morning, I didn’t believe it—I thought it was an act. But no witch would knowingly put herself in such a dangerous position with a Nocturne. Not unless you have a hell of a lot more power than you’re showing.”
“I don’t have any power,” I protested again.
He gave a low, mirthless chuckle.
“You can lie to yourself, little witch, but you can’t lie to me.”
“But—” I began but he turned and headed for the door. He opened it again, letting in another gust of humid night air. He was halfway out before he turned his head back to give me one more glimpse of his perfect face—still set in a strange mixture of anger and something else. Hunger? Desire? A little of both? I didn’t know.