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)
“Psycho.” I let out a shuddering breath and crawl back beneath the covers. Gorsky is acting like a jealous lover more than ever. But he raises a good point—why doesn’t Valen drink from him directly? And why did he drink from me? I’d much prefer a clinical setting where Melody takes my blood. Hell, I’m a decent stick. I’ll do it myself. This is so messed up. I’m literally debating the best way to let Valen victimize me.
I groan and consider simply staying in this room for the rest of the day/week/whatever. I won’t.
This inverted castle beneath the ground doesn’t have any answers for me. It doesn’t even have a way out—at least not one I’ve found. But I’m going to keep looking. Not Valen, not Gorsky, no one can keep me from trying to escape. I refuse to give up. I refuse to believe there’s nothing I can do.
Hesitating on the stairs, I lean over the rail and peer down into the darkened levels below. There are no lights to tell me how deep it is, no way of knowing where the stairs go, how many circles of hell beneath me.
I stare at the landing two flights down, the same floor where I was taken to Whitbine. That’s where I need to go. Steeling myself, I hurry down the steps, past the floor where Valen caught me. Down, down, down until I’m pressed against the wall, cold sweat on my brow, fear rising in my heart like the incoming tide.
Whitbine isn’t here, I remind myself. I would know if he were. Melody would’ve come to get me. Right? Panic sets in, the world caving in around me. I can’t catch my breath. My head pounds right along with my heart. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t … I clutch the wall and climb a step. My legs go weak, spots invading the edges of my vision. Whitbine is in the darkness waiting for me. He’s going to tear me apart to get his answers, ripping everything out as he goes. His fangs in my flesh, his fingers digging through my gray matter. Hot tears roll down my cheeks as I sink to the floor.
“What have we here, little rabbit?” Valen’s silky voice wraps around me as he grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet.
“Don’t!” I try to yank away from his touch, but I get nowhere.
A vicious slash mars his face, the edges of it puckered and oozing with some sort of gunk. He surveys me with cold calculation. “Pale today.”
“Leave me alone.”
“And let you break your neck on the stairs? I’m not that easy to escape.” He gives me a thin smile that doesn’t begin to reach his eyes.
“I’ll go back to my room.” I shy away from him.
His grip doesn’t change. “No. I don’t need you plotting and scheming the rest of the day away.”
I look more closely at his wound. The cut has almost severed his nose in two across the bridge. “What happened?”
“I tripped. Quite clumsy of me.” He gives me a smirk and pulls me down two steps.
“No.” I freeze. “I won’t—”
“This way.” He ignores my protest and pulls me across the landing and away from the corridor where Melody led me before.
The décor here is stark, the walls inlaid with the red tile, all of it in dragon motifs. I don’t even realize there’s a door ahead of us until Valen shoves a key into a nigh-invisible hole and pushes through it. It makes sense. The piano level is two above us, and there’s a door in a similar spot. I add notes to my mental map as he leads me through another series of rooms, each of them stuffy and filled with treasures. My heart stutter steps when I realize one of the chambers is lined with armor and weapons.
“Getting ideas, little rabbit?” His smug tone is like a bucket of cold water. He isn’t worried about me grabbing one of the swords or spears, not when he could break my neck with a movement quicker than my eye can follow. “You want me dead?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer quickly, almost as if compelled. I’m not.
“Maybe you’ll get your chance one day.” He stops and pulls another door, this one sliding to the left and revealing an accordion grate.
My eyes go wide. “An elevator?”
“Always so observant, little rabbit. It’s truly your greatest gift. How did you ever manage to get captured with such a sharp, incisive intellect?” His acid tone is underlain with amusement. He slides the grate back and pulls me into the carriage.
I’m afraid to ask anything else, afraid to give him any reason not to show me more.
“Plotting your big escape?” He closes the grate and slides a lever at the back of the elevator.
When we begin moving upward, I hold my breath. Up. Up.