Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“So we’re not being turned?” another scion asks.
I don’t even bother to look at this one. “No.”
They begin to mumble. These mumbles turn into grumbles. All the while Kael and I are staring at each other.
“Do you have something to say to me, Kael?”
“I want a drink.”
I scoff. “That’s it? Carnal desire? That’s what you want? Don’t you want to know what the hell is happening here?”
He shrugs up one shoulder. “Sure.” His eyes flit down to my throat, then back up to meet my gaze. He smiles. “I do. But what I really want, my lord, is you.”
I laugh. This one, he really likes to play the game. Not like Ryet, who is always so blunt and truthful. Always telling me exactly what’s on his mind. Kael here, while loyal—I don’t doubt his loyalty—isn’t blunt at all. He’s sneaky. He’s deceptive. He’s cunning. Sometimes cat, sometimes mouse.
Right now, he’s pretending to be the mouse. Which is nice. I like being the cat.
I nod at him. “If that’s true, you’ll get it. But first”—I look back at the other scions—“I’m going to fill you all in. Because everyone has a purpose and you, my good men, are the control group.”
There’s some murmuring here. Intelligence isn’t a trait I much care about when I make scions. I am a simple vampire, after all. I like blood and sex. So most of these men don’t understand what I mean.
But it’s OK. I don’t mind providing details. “The control group,” I continue, “gets the benefits of our mistakes. After all, we’ve never done this before.” I pan a hand to the ground. “It’s all very new. Mistakes will be made. Then we will learn, and adjust the protocol, and you, my dear leftovers, will be better than this first batch.”
They look at each other, murmuring again, and they begin to understand and start nodding their heads.
Feeling satisfied that they’ve all been placated—with the possible exception of Kael, but if it’s blood and sex he really wants, I will deal with him later—I turn back to the task at hand. Which is to give them a job to do. Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop, after all. So I point to one of the dumber ones. “What kind of coat does Jon Snow wear?”
He looks confused. Maybe even a little bit startled. “My lord?”
“Jon Snow. That majestic black, fuzzy coat. What kind of animal is that? Is it a yak?”
The scion shrugs his shoulders. “Um… maybe?”
“No,” another scion says. “It’s some kind of sheep.”
“Yeah.” Another nods. “It’s a black sheep.”
“Sheep?” I’m not quite sure ‘sheep’ is the look I’m going for. “Well, do we have yaks around here?”
The scions all look at each other, mumbling a discussion until they come to a consensus. “No, my lord. There are no wild yaks in Montana, my lord.”
“Maybe some ranchers have some?” another adds.
I sigh. “OK. Forget the yak. I need…” I pause to think. “Wolves. Pelts, actually. I need wolf pelts. A lot of them, I’d say.” I point at the group, aside from Kael. “Your job is to secure me fifteen wolf pelts. Good ones. And then I’ll need a coat.”
Kael snickers, but I ignore him and point to a random scion in the group. “You. You will take those pelts and make me a coat.”
He points to himself. “Me?”
“Yes, you. I’m sure there’s a how-to video on YouTube. You’ll figure it out. You’ll do fine. Now go. All of you. Hunt me some wolves!” I raise a clenched fist into the air, turning this last bit into a proclamation.
And then I usher them off with a dramatic wave of my hand.
Which they do not respond to immediately. It takes a few moments of confused mumbling before they actually turn away and start walking back to the various bunkhouses, but they do finally disperse.
Then I turn back to Kael and smile. “Come with me, blood lover. I have big plans for you.”
5 - Josep
She is well and truly mine
I am licking Little Baby like a lollipop and she is tasty. In this dream she is still the tender, young, innocent, pink-haired Echo. Her thighs are creamy white and appear fragile under the grip of my large hands because she is a small, weak halfbreed girl.
Which I quite like because I am a big, muscular vampire man and the disparity in our size is a turn-on for me.
I am between her legs and she’s writhing underneath me, her back arching, her mouth open and moaning, her eyes squeezed shut. My tongue must hit the sweet spot just right because suddenly her knees clamp against my head.
She comes.
Of course, she always comes. We’ve been in this dream for days, maybe even lifetimes, and her climax arrives every few minutes. It’s in this moment when I hear Paul. Not his voice, but his hands. Clawing the dirt near me.