Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Wolf’s the one who answers. “That’s not how wards work, especially not the ones your father uses.” He says father like it’s a curse. “He used a blood ward, and it would take a human sacrifice or a being more powerful than a vampire to break it.”
Human sacrifice. Being more powerful than a vampire.
My mind is spinning, or maybe it’s the room. I’m not certain. I’m not certain of anything anymore. “You killed the last woman he sent. Why not use her death to free yourself?”
Malachi makes a move that’s almost a flinch. “I didn’t kill her. She killed herself.”
“What?”
Wolf stretches and yawns. “Blood wards won’t hold me, which is the only reason that bastard hasn’t managed to trap me yet.”
If blood wards don’t hold him, that means…
I thought I was afraid before. I really did. Now, I can barely breathe past the terror clogging my throat. Even if I was never officially taught about the bloodlines and which power goes with which, or the members of the families still alive, I was taught this.
Seven bloodlines. Seven powers. The elementals; earth, air, water, fire. They’re dangerous, can turn the very world around a person against them. But the other three? Body, blood, spirit. My father is the latter, and I’ve seen what he can do with glamour and illusion when he’s angry. I’ve felt it, had my deepest, darkest fears dragged forth and shoved in my face. Had my very mind turned against me. If he can do that kind of damage with only the mind, what more can Wolf do with the blood?
I’m trapped in this house with two deadly predators, and right now they’re both looking at me like I’m a tasty snack.
8
“I’m going to bed.” I push to my feet, but Wolf is there before me, moving so fast, I have to scramble back to avoid running into his chest. I end up back on the sofa, staring up at him.
His pale eyes flicker red. “I don’t think so.”
“Wolf.”
He takes a slow step toward me. “You are too careful, Malachi. This girl tastes sweet and feels sweeter, and it’s playing with your head because you’ve been alone too long. She’s a sweet trap and you damn well know it. Kill her and free yourself.”
He’s not joking now. He means every word. He won’t lose sleep in killing me, and I don’t know why that surprises me. Why anything surprises me anymore. “Wait—”
“Back the fuck off, Wolf.” The flames in the fireplace crackle in a way that can only be described as menacing. “Now.”
For a second, I think he won’t do it. The red in his eyes edges into crimson and he looks downright feral for a moment. Just a moment, though. Between one blink and the next, he relaxes and grins down at me. “Ah well. Another time.”
I can’t move. I should fight, should scream, should do something, but it’s all I can manage to draw in harsh inhale after harsh inhale. Malachi is dangerous, but even if I don’t understand him, he’s got some kind of reason for what he does. Wolf is a rabid dog, a chaotic gale force wind that whips back and forth unexpectedly. Just when I think I might have a read on him, he turns around and tosses me off a cliff.
“Out.” The quiet menace in Malachi’s voice has goosebumps rising over my skin.
Wolf finally nods. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.” He turns and strides out of the room, moving at a human pace. I don’t know why that’s scarier than if he blurred away, but it is.
Between one blink and the next, Malachi is out of the chair and pulls me into his arms. “Mina.”
“Get off me.” I mean it to come out like a command, but it’s a whispered plea. I can’t stop shaking. What the fuck just happened? I don’t understand what’s going on, don’t understand the players, don’t even understand the game.
Instead of obeying, he scoops me into his arms and sits on the couch, tucking me into his lap. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. Stop saying that when you don’t mean it.” Oh gods, my voice sounds watery and my throat is burning. I will not cry in front of this vampire, will not expose yet another weakness in his presence. He already has me outmatched in every way measurable; I won’t give him this, too.
But my body hasn’t gotten the memo. Something hot and wet escapes the corner of my eye. I lower my head, and Malachi allows me that much, but he uses the opportunity to tuck me more firmly against his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “No one is going to kill you.”
That draws a ragged laugh from me. I hardly sound like myself. “If not you, then Wolf. If not him, then my father will once I’ve played out my role.” I thought I’d have more time, more opportunity to find a way out. I lied to myself about how outmatched I really am. There’s no point in lying any longer. I am a pawn in other peoples’ power games, destined to be moved from one side of the board to the other without any agency of my own.