Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
“My door won’t be ordinary. Duh.” The little girl hiked a thumb at her chest. “I’m superpowerful. A goddess! I can do anything. Grandpa Bus told me so.”
Roux ground his teeth. Had the god filled her head with praise simply to convince her to venture here and save her mother? How disappointed would she be when she failed? And she would. He wasn’t even sure his idea would work. But he had a second and third option to try. If he required a fourth, he’d come up with a fourth.
“I’m a goddess, too, sweetheart,” Blythe responded, “and I can do a lot of things. But I can’t open a doorway out of here.”
“Don’t worry. I can show you how.” Isla smiled with pure innocence. “I promised I’d wait till you won the crown. Are you really gonna be a queen, Momma? Does that mean I’ll be a princess? Because I really, really want to be a princess. So bad!”
The harpy cast Roux a help me look before peering past him and frowning. “Sunset comes. You should go. The wraiths are waiting.”
He checked his internal clock and blinked with astonishment. She wasn’t wrong. Yet, somehow, he himself had lost track of the seconds. “I’ll return as quickly as I can.”
To his surprise, she straightened and took his hand to give him a comforting squeeze. He squeezed back, wishing he could kiss her. Needing a kiss. Desperate for it. But under no circumstances did he want her using him to kiss Laban. He’d lived in another’s shadow his entire life. Always second place. Never more than a clone.
Tensing, he flashed to the island. As always, Penelope awaited him at the door of the palace, wearing a new piece of lingerie. Only difference was, she offered no smile before leading him inside.
“I know how you like to get this done,” she said, “so, let’s get this done.”
“Pouting because you’re soon to lose your meal tickets?”
“You assume I don’t already have a plan to ensure you and your female remain?” She humphed. “How you insult me, darling.”
“I know you already have a plan. I also know that plan will go nowhere.”
“We’ll see.”
In the ballroom, the army of wraiths stood in a line. No longer did they resemble haggard skeletons with hair. No, with their newfound energy, they’d chosen to don beautiful skins, like their queen. They ranged in color from the palest white to the darkest black.
After what Erebus had done... After Penelope’s actions—planting the firstone dagger under the bed to incriminate Blythe—the cauldron of hatred inside of Roux refilled, already bubbling over. He knew the wraith was responsible for the blade. Should have guessed from the start, but lust had made him stupid.
“Ladies.” Penelope clapped twice. “Chop, chop. Feed, feed. Our illustrious guest is impatient to leave us.”
The females zoomed over, glomming onto him. He withstood the newest feeding with ease. Though each bottomless pit of spectrals took more than usual, he had plenty more hatred at the ready.
As they fell away from him one by one, overfull and moaning, Penelope glided a circle around him. She tilted her head this way and that. “There’s something different about you.”
Before he could respond, not that he’d had any intention of doing so, she swooped in and sniffed at his neck. Licked. Sucked down a mouthful of strength.
With a groan, she eased away from him and wiped at her mouth. “You’re tastier than usual tonight, which means something happened with the phantom. But what?” Gliding around him again, she looked him up and down. “What, what, what?”
“If you are finished eating...” He yearned only to return to Blythe and Isla.
“Not quite yet.” Circling, circling. “After this, you’ll owe me one more fine dining experience. Unless I decide to break our deal and drain your female at her most crucial moment, of course. Or anytime afterward. Even if you manage to get her out of the realm, my link to her will remain.”
Trying to provoke him?
Then she added, “Perhaps you should give me a new reason not to harm her.”
Ah. She sought to herd him into a new deal, and he could guess the parameters. “You expect me to take you with us.” A statement, not a question.
“Not me. All of us.” Grinning at last, she swooped back in, feeding once again. This time, however, she stumbled away with a gasp, her eyes wide with astonishment. And perhaps envy? “You carry the scent of a child on your skin. A girl. Why? How? Tell me!”
“You are done,” he stated flatly. As she sputtered, he flashed to the bedroom.
A quick scan revealed mother and child lay on the bed. Heart pounding, he padded over as quietly as possible. Their eyes were closed, with Isla curled into Blythe’s side. The sight left his chest clenching worse than ever...and inspired his mystery prisoner to issue a high-pitched scream.