Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Jonathan wiped blood off his neck. “Yeah. You came at a good time, though.” The air started to shimmer around him as he no doubt sent healing cells where they needed to go.
“Do you have a gun?” Vero asked.
“I have several.” Jonathan walked to the closet and reached in for jeans that he quickly drew on. He grabbed a gun out of the nearest dresser.
His guards had explaining to do. “All right, stay here,” Vero said. “I’ll go see where the guards are.”
“Wait a sec.” Jonathan tossed him a faded and ripped pair of jeans. “At least put something on. Also, I’m coming with you.”
Vero caught them with one hand, his good one, and quickly put them on. “Give me a second,” he said.
“All right,” Jonathan murmured, gun in his hand as he reached into his closet for a shirt.
Vero walked into the hallway, grabbed Lyrica’s arm, and drew her back down to their bedroom. “Shoot anybody not me, but I will have people on the lodge. Stay here.”
She lifted her chin. “I should come with you. I’m an empath, and I might be able to see if he tells the truth. I’m not good with immortals yet, though.”
“He’ll tell me the truth,” Vero said grimly. “I promise.”
Her eyes widened and she looked at him. “You might want to consider a prison system and not just kill people.”
“We have a system that works for us. I told you what it was. I’m not happy with you right now,” he muttered.
Her head jerked. “That’s just too bad.”
“It really is,” he agreed. “Now, stay here with the gun. I’ll be back to deal with you later.” With that, he yanked a shirt from the closet to pull over his head, slipping his feet into his boots. He walked down the damaged hallway to find Jonathan already waiting for him with the unconscious attacker over his shoulder.
Jonathan gingerly pulled out his front tooth to toss on the ground. “I’ll have the other males who arrived with them pulled in for questioning.”
“Put them all in one cell, and let’s leave them there until tomorrow night. No food or water, and I have the cells under surveillance, so we can monitor what they say. The cameras are well hidden.” Vero looked back at Lyrica, hovering in the doorway. “Be here when I return.”
* * * *
Lyrica slept fitfully through the night, her arm still burning. She’d washed the blood off immediately before changing into panties and one of Vero’s overlarge T-shirts. It fell to her knees.
While she didn’t want to be all girly about it, wearing his shirt made her feel safe. Although he certainly hadn’t seemed happy with her when he’d left.
At some point, soldiers came and removed the decapitated bodies. She heard them but didn’t go out to watch. Instead, she lay in the bed with a gun next to her on the bedside table.
She’d never shot anybody before, and in fact had never fired one of the special green guns that fired lasers that turned into bullets upon hitting immortal flesh. She’d seen them in action, but she’d never thought she’d shoot one. She couldn’t believe how cold Vero had been. Yes, he told her to stay in the room, but she thought she could help. There had to be some sort of judicial system in the Kurjan nation. They couldn’t just go around killing people.
Just before dawn, the door opened and Vero walked in. She was cuddled under the covers, and she sat up, turning on the light. Blood was splattered all over the faded jeans and probably on the black shirt.
He looked at her and turned to stride into the bathroom, shutting the door. A few minutes later, the shower came on.
She shivered in the cold and ducked back down in the bed, her head feeling thick. She took several deep breaths, then began one of the breathing exercises she had learned to manage her anxiety.
All too soon, he walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips, his hair wet and curly around his head. Fresh bruises covered the roped muscle in his body.
Her mouth watered, but she didn’t say anything.
He went to the dresser across the room and pulled out another pair of black boxers to don before tossing the towel into the bathroom.
She didn’t protest, although the heavy cotton probably landed on the floor and wouldn’t dry properly. “Did you kill him?”
He didn’t answer her and instead walked around to the other side of the bed, lifted the covers, and settled his bulk underneath. She immediately began to roll toward him as his weight indented the mattress. “I asked you a question.”
He turned on his side, facing her, his eyes a midnight blue. “I heard you.”
“So answer me,” she said, also turning on her side to face him, feeling uncertain and a little lost.