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)
I understand. If there’s the smallest chance that Meg or Ci could suffer a moment’s discomfort, Beck will kill her without a second thought. My cousin loves few people, but those Beck does love have his whole heart. My cousin will kill for me, too. But I need something more than my cousin’s sword this afternoon.
“I will take care of her.” I have to speak carefully. Forming the words around fangs feels alien, but I force them from my throat anyway. She is my responsibility. She has been from the moment I heard her plea. I’m the only one who understands she’s intelligent, and I’m the only one who can save her now. Though she might not like how I do it.
Beck snarls, frustration pouring off him as he lowers his sword. “See that you do, and quickly.”
I know how hard it is for my cousin to stand down. The warrior king is used to taking charge. Beck’s eyes are narrow and focus solely on her. He’s waiting and watching for her to make a single wrong move. I have to be careful. Beck nods my way and moves to block the entrance to the tent.
The woman turns and squares off against me. She moves, her limbs fluid and close to the ground. She circles me, her every step a testament to grace and potential violence. I watch, taking in the way she stalks around until I have the rules of engagement down. I could take a sword from Beck, but that will only prove that I have better weapons than she does. I need to take her down in a way that leaves no question who is in charge. The instinct to dominate the lithe creature in front of me is overwhelming.
I mimic her, allowing my body to flow in a predatory fashion. An almost drugged sense of peace falls over me as I give in to my primal urges. This is a simpler place. The world narrows to include only two people.
She seems to realize my intent. Her eyes form slits, and her mouth firms stubbornly. She reaches her hand out as though to swipe at me. I react instantly. I bat her hand down. I don’t hold back. I hear the smack as my hand slaps viciously against hers. She pulls it back quickly, clearly surprised at the violence.
“Är du Första?” She bites her bottom lip as she asks the question.
“You will kneel and take the fucking translator,” I declare.
I move my hand down in a gesture she can’t possibly mistake. I want her on her knees in front of me. She might not know why I want her to do it, but she will know where I want her. “Reeve, get the chip. Get it now.”
She backs up, but she doesn’t back down. Her eyes slide between me and the door being guarded by Beck. It’s obvious she’s trying to decide between fight and flight.
“Kneel!” I will allow her neither option. She will kneel and submit. There is no other acceptable outcome.
She turns and runs. I jump into action. Before Beck can draw his sword, I’m on her. I wrestle her to the ground. I pull ruthlessly at her arms, gathering her wrists behind her back and shoving her breasts into the hard dirt of the floor. I use my weight to cover and control her. She fights, but my hold dominates her petite body. She spits out curses until I’ve finally had enough of her rebellion.
I gather her wrists in one hand. I use my other hand to shove her face into the ground and, running on primal instinct, place my fangs directly over the delicate bones of her neck. I bite down with a gentle but unmistakable force, careful not to break the skin. She stills beneath me. The only movement from my prey is the breath rattling in and out of her chest. She is obviously aware that I can break her neck with the slightest force. She’s at my mercy.
“Jag lämna,” she says breathlessly. She relaxes beneath me.
I have the insane urge to press my victory. The pretty predator lays still and silent under my body. Even her words sound submissive. The impulse is there to pull off my slacks and pound into her softness, claiming that which I have conquered. I could spread her thighs and take her. She’s mine by right of battle. She will accept me now.
Instead, I take a deep breath and sit up, releasing my hold on her neck. I didn’t break the skin, but there are twin indentions where I pressed my fangs. I stare at those marks, allowing my finger to trace them. If I used a bit more force, her blood would have flowed into my mouth. Consort blood. I’ve heard the stories. Consort blood is sweet, sweeter and richer than any meal pill. If the stories are true, her blood can make me stronger and faster. Every instinct in my body screams to plunge my fangs in and drink my fill. I want so badly to feed, though it has nothing to do with hunger.