Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“Befria mig.” She says it over and over again. I don’t recognize the language, but it’s there all the same.
“Befria mig?” I taste the words, trying to make sense of them. Vampires are known for being talented with languages, and my innate skills tell me that this seemingly feral woman is trying to communicate.
The female stops suddenly, her hands falling away from the bars. She stands up, where before she seemed inclined to prowl, as though more used to four legs than two. She stands properly now, and all of her attention is on me.
“Hjälp mig, var vänlig min herre,” she says plainly. Her stark blue eyes are filled with tears.
“Not intelligent?” Beck asks. There is an iciness to the query.
Reeve sputters, staring up at his king. “Sire, I…”
I ignore the small argument between the Fae. I step toward the woman, trying to ignore the smell. “I don’t speak your language, sweetheart.” I pull a translator implant out of my pocket. I always have a couple. I hold it up. “I need to place this behind your ear.” I point to a small spot behind my own ear where the translator will be deployed. “Then we can understand each other.”
“Befria mig?” the woman asks, her voice almost timid now, as though she doesn’t quite believe me. This close, I can see her high cheekbones and the delicate planes of her face. Her cheeks are soft and her chin a stubborn line.
I give her my most reassuring smile. I can handle this. I can handle this better than Beck, who just planned to use brute force. I’ll show them all that diplomacy and charm work even better. “Sure, sweetheart. Let me get the translator in and we’ll ‘befria mig’ all you like.”
“Mr. Dellacourt, I would not do that if I were you,” Reeve warns.
“It’s fine.” I have this. I move toward her. “Give me the keys.”
Reeve purses his lips together as though he wants to argue further. His small hands don’t move toward the keys on his belt. I give my cousin an impatient glance.
“It’s one small female, Beck,” I say, irritated that yet again someone thinks I can’t do something. She’s petite, and her eyes are soft and pleading. “I think I can handle her.”
“Well, if you can’t, I’m sure I can,” Beck allows, his hand still on the sword, but his arm relaxes. He stands in the center of the room, blocking the way out. He’s a broad, reassuring figure. “Reeve, open the cage. Let Dante have a try with her. I would hate to kill her if this is all a misunderstanding.”
The gnome doesn’t hesitate when his king orders him. Reeve moves immediately, pulling the correct key off his belt and turning it in the heavy lock that separates the woman from freedom.
I’m strangely fascinated by the creature in the cage. Every muscle in her slender body is taut as the small gnome slowly pulls back the door. Her eyes flick suspiciously about the room as though she’s waiting for something terrible to happen. Is she frightened? Probably. She’s been thrown into a world she obviously doesn’t understand. At least Meg spoke the language. This poor thing doesn’t even have that comfort. I feel a wealth of sympathy rise for her.
Moving cautiously toward her, I keep my hands out, attempting to show her I have no weapons, only the tiny translator that will painlessly burrow into her and attach itself to her brain, thereby allowing her to understand the known languages of the planes. I hope it works as quickly as it’s supposed to. Even if the language is unknown, the computer will eventually decode it. It shouldn’t take long before I can talk to the little creature in front of me. Then we’ll discuss hygiene.
She takes a step back when she realizes I’m coming in. She goes down on her feet. She crouches low, her knuckles grazing the floor. There’s a tenseness about her, as though she’s prepared to pounce.
“It’s all right,” I cajole. I suspect she’s quite lovely under all that grime. The bones of her face are delicate but well defined. Her eyes are wide and her lips… I know a lot of women on my plane who pay money to get lips like that. And she’s young. She’s too young to have eyes so wary.
I see the minute her eyes change from wary to aggressive.
Beck moves closer, and the female catches a glimpse of the sword in his hand. She growls and goes after the only target she can get to—me.
“Wait.” The translator falls from my hand as she leaps from her crouch and pounces.
Chapter Four
Dante
My head smashes against the iron bars of the cage as the woman slams into my body. She’s slight, but I’m shocked by the strength in her delicate frame. She doesn’t feel insubstantial as she presses down on me. She wraps a hand around my throat.