Total pages in book: 230
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
“Do you really care what happens to me?”
My fingers twitched. “No.”
“Then go.” He started to back up.
I should go. I should leave his ass here to bleed out like a stuck pig. He was an Ancient, and even if he hadn’t fed in a few months….
Holy crap.
It struck me then. “You haven’t fed this whole time, have you? Not since the spell was broken.”
He tossed a glare at me over his shoulder through thin slits. “Aren’t you leaving?”
“What does that mean then if you haven’t fed in like two years? Can these wounds—”
“Kill me unless it’s treated or I feed? Probably not, but it’ll take a while to heal.” Grunting, he pushed against the hole in his shoulder. “I just need to get out of this alley.”
“You can’t go to the hospital.” Having a very human doctor discover that fae were a real thing was not exactly on the to-do list for tonight.
“No shit,” he grumbled.
I ignored that. “I can—I can get you back to Hotel Good—”
“No,” he interrupted, and I thought that he might’ve swayed a little. “You will not contact them.”
Confusion filled me. “What? Why?”
“Can you just accept an answer without following up with another damn question?” He let out another curse. “God, you’re infuriating.”
I lifted an eyebrow at that. “You know, if I am so infuriating, then you probably shouldn’t have stalked me into the alley.”
“I wasn’t stalking you,” he grumbled. “And if I hadn’t been then you’d have ended up dead.”
I threw up my hands. “First off, you just admitted to stalking me after saying you didn’t, and we’ll address that, but most importantly? I’m not the one bleeding all over myself, now am I?”
He didn’t respond to that, at least not vocally, but I had a feeling he was mentally cursing me out.
“I’m fine. I just… I just need to get to my place,” he said, and he sounded like those words pained him.
The sirens were getting closer, and I needed to make up my mind. He needed help, whether he wanted it or not.
Taking a deep breath, I walked over to where he stood and decided. “Like it or not, I’m going to help you.”
There weren’t a lot of moments in my life where I had to stop and ask myself what in the fuck I was doing.
For the most part, I lived a practical, boring existence—well, outside of my plan to hunt down the fae who’d attacked my mother and me. Other than that, I was like a bowl of white rice without any soy sauce.
But here I was, waiting for the Prince—the Prince—to unlock the door to what appeared to be one of the many old warehouses that had been converted into upscale condos.
Luckily he hadn’t argued with me when I’d led him out of the alley, and I was leading him. By the time we reached Royal Street, in the opposite direction of the sirens, his steps had slowed to a near crawl. I was able to flag down a cab and thank God, as far as I knew, he didn’t bleed all over the backseat.
The Prince didn’t speak beyond giving the cabbie his address. Not again after the ride. Not as I helped him get to the elevator and we went to the tenth floor, the top floor, and not as I stood beside him, shouldering what felt like the weight of a Volkswagen Bug.
The door finally opened and warm air rushed out as the Prince stumbled inside. A light came on, revealing a massive open floor design that… that didn’t even look lived in.
The walls were exposed brick and the living area faced floor to ceiling windows. There were two doors. One near the entrance that I figured was some kind of closet and the other on the other side of the living room. There was a TV and a large black, sectional couch, but beyond that, there was nothing else. At all.
“You can leave now.” He walked forward, stopping to place his hand on the white marble countertops that edged out the gourmet level kitchen that looked like it never once saw a meal cooked in it.
Because I was apparently making a series of bad life choices tonight, I followed him inside, closing the door behind me.
“Are you going to be okay?” I toyed with the button on my peacoat.
Lowering his head, he let out a long, shuddering breath. “Yes.”
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.” I inched closer to him, and I could smell it now. It mingled with that summer scent of his. I saw it on his hand, the bluish-red tint of fae blood. “Is there someone I can call? Your brother—”
“Do not call my brother,” he bit out, his fingers curling into a fist on the marble. “Do not call anyone.”
Exasperated, I looked around the condo before my eyes settled on him. “Obviously you’re not okay. You haven’t fed and you’re bleeding all over your nice wood floors. And I have no idea why you haven’t fed in two years—not that I don’t think that’s great and all, but your brother says he uses human volunteers—”