Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Nothing along this fucking cursed street offers a place to rest away from the sun. Every home is connected to the one next to it. I fucking hate brownstone housing streets. They offer zero defensibility, no privacy, and no places to lurk in the shadows.
And that’s exactly what I want to do right now—lurk in the darkness like some simple-minded predator.
Dammit.
Pulling my cellphone from my pocket, I dial Raphael’s number.
“Where the fuck are you?” Raphael bellows into the phone.
“The fuck you talking to?” I snarl at him.
“You. What the hell happened and where are you?” he says more quietly.
I get his sense of worry through the phone and through our connection. He’s not my child by blood, but when I shared my blood with him to save him from an almost certain death five centuries ago, we developed a connection. Which, as far as we know, shouldn’t have happened.
Only sires and their children should be able to connect like this.
Glancing around the streets again, I spot the closest intersecting street sign. “Lincoln and Eighth.”
“We’re on our way,” he says, and I can hear him relaying my coordinates to the guys in the background.
“Whose car are you using?” I ask with a deep-seated sense of annoyance.
“One of that psycho fuck’s.” Raphael lets out a breath. “What the hell happened back there?”
“Nikolaos was trying to take my soulmarked,” I say as I stand at the corner of the street, staring back at Chloe’s brick home.
I could set the row of houses ablaze, eventually she’d be forced out…
Calling the police for a life check would also work…
Getting some homeless fool to kick the door in and drag her out also its appeals.
But just like the laws that keep me from entering her home without permission, I must follow the edicts to a point.
Human society is aware of us, and some even accept us, but doing something like drawing public attention to ourselves or our pursuits is dangerous.
“That’s… that’s…” Raphael trails off in complete confusion.
“It’s impossible, right?” I say with annoyance.
It should be impossible, to my knowledge. As far as I know, she’d be turned into a ghoul. Nothing better than a drone bee.
But Ambrose drank from her… I smelled her blood on him as I raced out of the club.
“Did you grab the nut?” I ask as I pace back and forth.
The coming light is starting to break into my defenses. It’s impossible to stay here. There’s not a single store on this street. It’s all homes with warding put up.
If there was a single vacant building on the street, I’d use it, but I can’t feel it.
This has to be by design. Smart design. The Order must ensure their Marked are always surrounded by filled housing. We’ve known that to an extent, but it confirms my suspicions.
“Yeah, he’s in the trunk, rambling about his dance partner one second, then gibbering about someone not being his the next.” Raphael sighs. “I should have killed him in 1868.”
“Maybe so, maybe not,” I think aloud. “We need to pump him for information. Be ready for that.”
“Got it,” Raphael says. “What’s the plan, though? Are we able to shelter in place around your girl?”
Checking the road, I see sewer grates and manholes. “Maybe.”
Moving to the closest manhole, I try yanking it up, but much to my surprise, the pavement starts to come up with the lid.
“They’ve got the fucking manholes attached to something,” I growl.
“What the fuck? Just pull the thing up.”
“It’s taking the pavement with it,” I say, and look to the sewer grates. “The sewer grates are welded shut and I’m willing to bet anchored down as well.”
“Fuck. We’ll find a vacant close by then.”
“Doubtful. I bet The Order has every home and apartment in a four to five mile radius filled.”
“What?” he asks.
Moving to stand beside a house that still offers some shade from the oncoming sun, I growl into the phone before disconnecting. “Just fucking get here.”
Pushing myself up against the wall, I focus on my heart. It hurts. It feels like a vise is squeezing the life out of it slowly, one breath at a time.
I’m far enough away from Chloe that I’ve lost the sound of her own heart beating. I’ve also lost the ability to feel her emotions clearly. But I know that if I move any closer to her, it will kill me. I can’t be near her right now, not with that kind of barrier between us.
It’s a torture of the soul, body, and mind.
Nikolaos is to blame for this colossal fuck up.
He’s to blame for whatever the fuck it was that was happening there last night. He’s the one who has two fucking soulmarked in this city.
How the fuck does that even happen? One, I can see. But two? Something’s fucking rotten.
Chloe’s not his fated. She’s not drawn to him as he is to her. Yet he was going to turn her to him, as if every single fucking known rule is null and void. It makes no logical sense. It would have turned her into a ghoul.