Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
The memory rises up like a sour taste at the back of my throat, stinging with old pain. I can still remember the shame I felt…and then the anger. I promised myself not to date again after that, and I haven’t…well, until Lucian. If what we’re doing can be considered dating.
"Craig—what an asshole. And it wasn’t like he was some prize—he had arms like pipe cleaners and those little chicken legs,” Hanna says, indignant on my behalf. “You broke up with him on the spot, right? And I don't blame you!"
"Exactly. But it's different with Lucian. He's proud of me. He wanted to show me off to the Necromancer Don yesterday. He was eager to be seen with me."
I shrug, my cheeks warming with embarrassment.
"I've just never had a man feel like that about me before…like he's lucky to have me because I'm curvy. Not despite it—because of it."
Hanna gives a visible shiver.
"Please don't mention that weird skeleton Don again. The way he looked at me…" She shakes her head like she's trying to shake off a bad dream. "I've never had a man look at me that way before—if he is a man. It was like…like he wanted to eat me up."
"That's how I feel about Lucian—but in a good way," I say. "It's all so surreal. Like everything is turned on its head here. And it's nice to be wanted. To be worshiped for my curves. But of course I want to go home. I miss you and everyone else in Book Club."
"We would miss you too, if you stayed here. But I'm acting like I can go home anytime I want and I know I can't," Hanna says quietly. "How are we going to get out of here?"
Before I can answer, a deep voice speaks from the doorway.
"You won't be going anywhere yet—not until I can arrange it."
I turn, startled. Lucian stands there, his tall form framed by the carved doorway. His dark suit emphasizes his broad shoulders and his eyes are dark. I wonder if he heard us talking and feel my cheeks get hot all over again. I didn’t even hear him approach. Despite being so big and muscular, he’s quiet as a cat.
"Oh, er…then what are we doing?" I ask, my voice a little too high.
"I have arranged for the two of you to take a tour of the Crimson Orchards," he says smoothly. "They are deeper inside my realm, which extends for many miles. You’ll tour the orchards and vineyards and have a cheese and wine tasting with my most trusted sommelier. You can even take your cat with you if you wish."
I glance down at Mr. Mittens, who’s moved from the window over to the fireplace. He’s stretched out long in front of the fire like a satisfied noodle.
"No," I say, smiling. "I think Mr. Mittens will be happier here. He seems to like the Crimson Spires."
"Very well." Lucian inclines his head. Then, with old-fashioned charm, he adds, "Please come with me. Your carriage awaits, ladies."
He turns to Hanna.
"And please be assured, I am working on a way to return you to the Human Realm. I’m afraid that returning from the Shadow Realm back to the Human world is considerably more complicated than getting from the Human world into the Shadow Realm in the first place."
Hanna frowns.
"I'm not sure what I'm going to tell my job. I'm supposed to work today."
"You can tell them your friend had an emergency," I offer, trying to sound optimistic.
"I guess I'll have to," Hanna sighs. "It's actually true, if you count getting dragged out of reality as we know it as an emergency."
"I certainly do," I say, rising from my seat.
Hanna rises too.
"Well, let’s go then," she says. “If we can’t get home, I can think of worse ways to spend the day than going on an orchard tour.”
“Okay.” I take one last look at the cozy breakfast nook, at the fire, at the cat, at the sunlight gilding everything like a dream I don’t want to wake from.
Then Hanna and I step into Lucian’s shadow, and follow him for what I hope will be a relaxing day.
46
Jules
Hanna and I follow Lucian down the hallway, our footsteps muffled by thick carpets that look like they were woven out of velvet and shadow. The Vampire Don moves like he always does—silent, controlled, and elegant.
He moves like a predator who knows he’s at the top of the food chain and doesn’t need to hurry. The thought pops into my head and I have to agree with it.
I’m still not used to how huge he is. Not just tall—big. Broad shoulders under the dark suit…long legs eating up the distance with every step. And yet he doesn’t stomp or swagger like some big men. He glides.
We step into the private elevator, the doors whispering shut behind us. The air inside smells faintly of polished wood and something spicy—cinnamon? clove? It’s good, whatever it is.