Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I heave a sigh. “I don’t believe the other will ever happen. No female can handle the warlock within us, and there isn’t a witch worth her sanity who will come near our demi blood.”
“This is our truth,” Bradan says gruffly.
“Or is it?” Reilly asks as his eyes begin to glow.
I straighten and watch my brother’s face for clues of what he may be channeling. His gifts allow him to feel the emotions of others. Especially the feelings of our bonded family.
Reilly’s mouth opens and closes a few times. His brows knit, and the energy that pulses off him is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I go to step toward him, but he lifts his hand to halt me.
“You are needed, Kendrick. You will know her once you find her. Go,” he commands.
I go to correct him for ordering me around, but I feel like I’m hit in the gut with a boulder. The room begins to pulse around me as it comes in and out of focus. I can feel my powers humming against the iron that harnesses them within me.
“What the fuck?” I grunt against the pain.
The room disappears again, and I’m on a street. I continue to phase in and out of the study and the darkened street. It is on the fourth time that I see the figure running toward me. The closer the figure gets, the more my powers rage against their constraints.
My veins feel alive. It’s as if my heart is beating double time. I reach out for the figure, not knowing why. Just as I stumble forward, I flash back into the study.
I whip my head around, waiting to be returned to the street. All I find are my brothers standing before me—each one with his eyes alight.
“Go,” Bradan commands this time.
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Instinctively, I know just where I’m going. I just don’t know what I will find.
Help
I have to keep running. I can’t stop now. I don’t know who these men are, but they mean me harm. I can’t die out here tonight on this dark and eerie street. My father would kill me a second time.
Grown woman or not, I should have listened when he told me not to leave the house. I always need to be the rebel. Now look at me. My lungs are burning, and my legs feel like jelly. Yet I push harder, faster.
Turning up another alley, I dart to the other end. When I clear the funky, dank pathway, I turn left and keep running. My eyes are burning along with my lungs.
Oh great. I’m hallucinating.
I swear, I see a figure looming before me. It’s blurred up ahead in the center of the street. The closer I get, the larger it seems.
This must be the end.
My first instinct is to turn and run away from the blurring image. Yet my legs have a mind of their own. They draw me closer to the form that seems to flicker and flash in my vision. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head.
My heart begins to pound harder than it had been with the exertion of my dead run. It’s thumping in my ears, ten times louder than just a moment ago. It’s the craziest thing.
My veins feel like they’re on fire. My skin feels like it’s going to filet itself from my body. My mind races with thoughts of dying from running to death.
Shit, I work out. What the hell is wrong with me? The figure I imagined running toward disappears, and my heart slows. I’m light-headed, but I can’t stop. Tires squeal somewhere in the distance. They’re still after me.
I make it to the location the figure I surely imagined stood in just as the sound of the car gets closer. I don’t dare turn around. I won’t be like those chicks in the movies—turn and fall right on my face. Falling prey to my captor. Nope, that won’t be me.
Out of nowhere, my vision is blinded by a flash of light. I slam right into something hard and almost fall on my butt anyway. Bands of steel prevent me from crashing to my behind. It’s only as I lift my head and squint that I see it’s a man. A very handsome man.
I’m not sure of his age. His hair and beard are salt and pepper, but his face is youthful as if he has started to gray prematurely. His eyes are the color of pure gold, almost like staring into the depths of twin flames.
I’m five-seven, and he still towers way over me. A chilling shiver runs through me. Yet the word safe plays in my head.
“Do not move,” he commands.
Each word feels like fingers grasping my chin to arrest my attention, locking my eyes on his. The sound of his voice vibrates through me—like a force all of its own. I don’t move.