Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
So selfish. “I’m sorry. I’ve been working on something for … Father.” It was difficult to call him that now. Although she’d always known she was adopted by William “the Bloody” Payne, she’d thought his actions benevolent. He was her hero. She hadn’t realized the reason she’d needed adoption in the first place was because he was a cruel psychopath.
How many people in The Garm knew what he’d done to her?
“Oh. Well … okay, then.” Odette sighed. “I just really needed to talk about something.”
“I’m sorry.” The hair on Echo’s nape rose again, and she turned her head slowly. Her eyes met the black of Roark’s. He smirked and reached out to draw his finger across her nipple.
Enraged, Echo swatted his hand away, and he burst out laughing.
“Who is that?” Odette asked, having heard.
“No one.” Echo glowered at Roark in warning. “Can I call you back? I won’t be long, I promise.”
Her sister heaved another heavy sigh. “Okay.”
Echo hung up and moved to get off the bed.
Roark wrapped a hand around her wrist to stop her.
Despite the fact she’d only been a vampire for six years and he for forty, Echo broke his hold with ease. She was strong for a young vampire. This had pleased her fath—William—very much.
Disgusted with William, with herself, and always with Roark, Echo got off the bed and searched the room for her clothes.
“You can’t leave,” Roark said, his voice husky. “The sun hasn’t set yet.”
Echo’s back straightened at the reminder, and she glared at the window. It was fitted with state-of-the-art blackout blinds, much like the ones in her own apartment. For six years, she’d told herself William loved her, that turning her was a gift she should be grateful for. Echo had buried her grief over losing the daylight. At knowing she’d never watch a sunrise again or close her eyes and turn her face toward the sun to feel its warmth on her skin.
Now she knew the truth.
William had stolen everything from her.
He’d trapped her in this hellish, eternal night.
And she was going to make him pay for it.
But first … she needed to make sure he never got the chance to do what he’d done to her, to Odette.
Odette.
She was the bucket of ice-cold water Echo needed to pull herself out of her pity spiral.
Though he made no sound, she sensed Roark cross the room seconds before his arms slid around her waist. He jerked her against his hard, naked body and pulled her hair aside so he could glide his tongue up her neck.
Echo’s stomach turned. “If you don’t release me this second, I’m going to cut off that thing prodding my ass.”
Roark chuckled and gave her a squeeze. “You know, you only make me want you more when you resist.”
“That’s because you’re sick.” She broke away from him, turning to glare into his pretty-boy face. “Does William know about your hedonism? Is this why you can’t quite make your way into the inner circle?”
His eyes narrowed. “I am the inner circle.”
She taunted, “No, sweetheart, I’m the inner circle. And as someone definitely in the inner circle, I know when someone isn’t.”
“You think your father hasn’t fucked and sucked his way through a million orgies?” Roark snapped. “I’ve witnessed him do it! Wake up, princess! This is the real world.” He gestured behind him to the four humans sprawled across his bedroom. “All that bullshit Payne feeds you about control and respect and feeding for necessity, not for pleasure, is just his fucked-up way of keeping you on his leash.”
Well trained by William, Echo didn’t flinch, even though she felt Roark’s words score through her like the tip of a wooden stake. He was right. She had no doubt William lied about feeding from humans for mere necessity. It would all have been part of the image he wanted to present to Echo.
An honorable vampire. A supernatural with a mission. Hard, but fair.
He was none of those things.
For twenty-six years, she’d been raised to believe that he and his now-dead boss Eirik led their organization, The Garm, with altruistic purpose. To find the prophesied fae-borne and kill them before they could open the gates to Faerie. Eirik had been to Faerie. Had lived when the fae walked among humans freely. It was a dark age, he’d told her.
The fae were to be hated, spurned, killed.
And yet, she’d discovered only days after her appearance in Echo’s apartment that Niamh Farren wasn’t a witch like she’d suspected. William had finally entrusted Echo with their game plan and shown her the files The Garm had on those they knew were definitely fae. He’d shown her images of the ones The Garm had hunted and killed. Three of the seven were dead. Of those who were left, they’d identified two, plus an extra fae who had nothing to do with the prophecy.