Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
I broke away quickly to pick it up. However, it was gone.
“No.” I groaned. “Theseus, it’s hidden itself again. Sigbjørn warned us not to look away from it.”
“To be quite honest, Druella, I do not give a damn about it right now.”
When I turned back to him, his jaw was set in frustration, and his nostrils were flaring as he stood still. I couldn’t help but giggle a bit.
“You find this amusing, leading me to paradise only to leave me behind so abruptly and unsatisfied?” he questioned, clearly annoyed.
I nodded, still trying to bite back a laugh, which only made him growl as he grabbed my arms and pulled me back to him.
“You are cruel, Druella.”
“I do not mean to be,” I said, and the slight joy I had, began to fade again. “I—”
“Do not start,” he replied, placing his forehead on mine. “Do not begin to worry or give in to your doubts.”
“It’s easier said than done.”
“Which is why I sought to distract you.”
“Really?” My eyebrow raised. “Are you sure it was all solely for my benefit?”
“I never said that. A distraction can be of mutual satisfaction.” He smirked. “So, shall we continue?”
I wanted to, but… “Don’t you feel bad being in here, trying to have your way with me while your family cleans up whatever mess is outside?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Theseus!” I laughed.
“I have spent a great many years cleaning up my brother’s affairs all the while they indulged in their mates. It is divine justice that they are to do the same for me now,” he replied, lifting me and placing me on top of the desk with ease.
“This could be different. These witches are dangerous, right? They could be in real danger…”
“My family is a bit eccentric, but do not let that misguide you. No matter how strong the witches, they can handle it. My father, alone, could most certainly. So, fear not—”
“Sigbjørn, he does more than read minds, doesn’t he?”
“So shall we not continue?” He pouted and sighed dramatically, which again made him—the large, handsome, formidable, indestructible vampire—look downright adorable. He released his grip on me slightly and gave more space between our bodies. “I shall have you sooner rather than later, Druella, but till such time, I shall allow you to continue with this torture.”
I laughed. “You are so dramatic.”
“And you are a stubborn minx,” he muttered.
My jaw dropped open. “A minx!”
He nodded. “A tease, a flirt—”
“No more synonyms! I got it,” I snapped, smacking his shoulder, causing him to chuckle. Turning my face from him, I looked back over the large room of art. “So, this is your family art collection?”
“One of them.”
“One of them?”
He nodded. “Yes, it could not all possibly fit in here. There is another room for the sculptures as well. But I find here it is the most relaxing. It is was here I spent most of my time.”
“Why here?”
“It was a school.”
“A school?” Of all the things, I was not expecting that. “You taught students? Mortals?”
“No, I have not the patience of an educator. And yes, mortals, some immortals hidden among them. For the school was not here directly,” he replied, and noticing my confusion, he went on, “But long ago, many artists from all over Greece came to the Messenia School of Art.”
“The Messenia? There is an art museum in Washington, DC, by that name, too. Well, they mostly call it the Corcoran School of the Arts and Design. It is part of George Washington University. But I’ve never heard of the ancient city of Messenia, nor a school of art in Greece.”
“You have not heard of it as it was destroyed and stricken from mortal memory.” He frowned as he looked from me toward the door. “After the Roman era, many of the Messenians moved farther inland up the country, no more than fifty miles from where we are standing now. And they thrived until after the Fourth Crusade, and the lands were divided into many kingdoms. Those kings wanted loyal soldiers, not artists or philographers. The times were unstable. And so one such king slandered the school with charges of blasphemy, idolatry, bestiality, and every immortality he could think of, not just them but whoever disagreed with his ideals. And so, with his charge, the church swiftly set the school ablaze. The students who were inside perished, and those who survived united behind the king to fight, but not before confessing to the charges laid against the school, however. All that was left at the end were the stones the school was built with and that door.”
“You brought the door here?”
“And stones,” he said, glancing around the room once more. “I brought them back, for I did not think the mortals deserved them.”
I stared at him, somewhat amazed. “It sounds more to me like you wished to honor those mortals.”