Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 65167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
He jumps into—
I don’t know what. I know only that we’re cruising through the jelly-like haze I remember from when he rescued me from the demons the first time.
The haze. The plane.
The ether.
Where battle rages.
Where my father is.
My father—the only one who can answer my questions.
And he will answer my questions. He will answer every single one.
We land in the midst of flaming arrows whooshing through the smoky air. I let go of Rogan’s animal pelt and stand straight—
Just as a demon’s arrow shoots straight at my heart.
7
I’ve been shot by an arrow like this before, and I know what to expect. I have no desire to relive the experience, but before I can duck out of the way, Rogan jumps in front of me, shielding me.
Then he crumples to the ground as the arrow pierces him.
“No!” I kneel, pull out the arrow, and rise. “Who dares to try to kill a vampire princess, stepdaughter to the demon king? Who dares to attack this alpha wolf? Who? Show yourself!”
Then I drop to my knees once more. The sight of Rogan’s blood seizes me, but I’m more interested in stopping the bleeding. He was shot only days ago, but he healed quickly. Will he heal quickly from this wound as well?
Your touch helps. It soothes me more than any healing balm ever could.
The words he uttered after his gunshot echo through my mind. I cover the wound with my hand, the gush of his blood overwhelming my senses.
“Help!” I yell. “I need help! The alpha wolf is hurt!”
Still arrows whiz by, gunshots ring out, knives flash through the air, and vamps and demons alike race past like blurs…but no one comes to my aid.
Rogan’s wolf eyes open then, his green irises swirling. I move my hand and—
“Oh my God!” I clasp my bloody hand to my face.
The wound has closed, just as they do when I lick him after I feed.
Your touch helps. It soothes me more than any healing balm ever could.
Rogan wasn’t speaking metaphorically. My touch truly does soothe him. It heals him.
Yes, our saliva helps coagulate blood so we can stop the bleeding when we feed. But a mere touch? Does my touch have this power?
Or does it have this power only for Rogan?
His gunshot wound did heal quickly, but I figured that was because of his wolf heritage. Wolves and vampire have accelerated healing compared to humans.
Rogan makes it to his feet, and I climb onto him. His pelt repels the arrows that fly around us, and soon we’re back at the underground bunker.
Dominic is gone.
“He went to fight,” Rogan says, his voice not quite human.
He’s man now. Naked man. He walks into a separate room and returns wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and leather boots.
“How?” I ask. “How do you heal so quickly?”
“Your touch, princess. Don’t you know that by now? We’re inside each other. In a way, we are each other.”
“But we’re not. You don’t understand—”
“I understand more than you think. I know what I feel. I know what I see when I look at you, when I feel your heartbeat as you lie next to me. I know who you are, princess. You are mine.”
When he says the words, I almost believe them. I almost forget my logic and the facts that I uncovered. I almost throw it all out the window and melt into his arms to confess my unwavering love for him.
For although the connection between us is a lie, my love for him is not. Even now, knowing that we’re not each other’s fate, I still love him.
I still love Victor Rogan.
I still yearn for him.
For his body.
For his blood.
For his heart.
For his soul.
I want to rush into his arms, kiss him deeply, fall onto the ground and make mad, passionate love.
But war is raging.
War between his people and mine.
And war is raging between my father and me.
I have to find him. I have to force him to tell me why he did this. Why he gave me my heart’s desire only to show me it’s an illusion.
“Rogan, I have to go.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“We’ve been through this. I don’t answer to you.”
“Right. You answer to your father. To your king.” He advances toward me.
“I do not. Not anymore. I’m not sure I ever did. I answer to no one, Rogan. No one but myself.”
He pulls his shirt over his head. His wound is closed but still fresh. And the blood… God, the blood. A tiny red river trickles over his abdomen, leading toward his…
Toward his cock.
He lowers his jeans, and his dick juts out as the little stream of blood meanders through his black bush and reaches his cock.
“Kneel, princess. Take me into your mouth.”
I nearly drop to my knees at his command.
But as much as I want to suck that gorgeous cock and taste that trickle of blood, I do not obey.