Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I leaned in and kissed him, soft and slow, sealing my words with my tongue like a signature on a contract.
I wanted to sink into this moment with him, embrace him for the rest of the night until we fell asleep in each other’s arms. He’d been my cure all along. I’d been so worried that he was trouble when all he’d been was an antidote to all that ailed me. I broke the kiss for a moment. I wanted to look into Dylan’s eyes. Memorize the tiny flecks of color, the long eyelashes, the well of emotion that framed them. I held his face in my hands. Rubbed a thumb along his cheek, slipped my other hand behind his neck.
My fated—
The sound of something crashing and shattering in my living room made us both freeze, eyes wide. A metallic scent hit my nose.
“Uh, what the hell was that?” Dylan asked. He sniffed at the air. “And why does it smell like blood?”
Chapter Nineteen
D Is For…
DYLAN
One second I was kissing and reassuring my fated mate that things were going to be okay, and the next I was scenting blood in the other room, my defenses up and every one of my senses sharpened. Someone was inside. And it sounded like they were trying their best at destroying the living room. Thuds and crashes sounded loud even through the closed door.
“Stay here,” Miles said.
“Absolutely the fuck not.” I jumped off the bed with him, grabbing the shorts I’d taken off and pulling them back on. We were in this together from here on out. He may not have felt the fated mate connection in the same way I did, but maybe that wasn’t a prerequisite to bonding your souls together? Everyone was different, after all.
Regardless, those were questions for tomorrow Dyl. Present Dyl currently had a situation to handle with Miles, and from the rapidly increasing coppery scent of blood, it was going to be very messy and potentially dangerous.
Miles went out of the room first, running down the hall. He had his hands balled into fists. I knew he was ready to fight, same as me. I considered shifting into a wolf to help out with that. Sharp canines and claws could fend off an intruder much better than fists could. But what if this was a home intruder who had nothing to do with Miles’ stalker? One who had no idea shifters existed? Miles having a secret pet wolf in the house could raise questions if the cops got involved.
The moment called for a split-second decision. I stayed in my human form, quieting the wolf inside me that was becoming thirsty for the blood being spilled. Not now.
We ran into the living room and stopped at the threshold, a bloody crime scene unfolding right in front of us. Streaks of bright red crimson smeared the walls, covering the beautiful wallpaper I’d commented on only hours earlier. A vase had fallen and shattered all over the floor. Blood dripped across the carpet and painted it red in thick splotches. “What the fuck happened?” I asked, looking around but seeing no one inside. There wasn’t even a sign anyone had broken in. All the windows were intact, door was closed and locked.
“I don’t know…” Miles said. He sounded as shaken as I felt. We cautiously moved into the living room, peering all around us. Searching for any sign of what could have caused this explosion of blood.
A flapping sound came from my left. I turned to see a red cardinal dive-bombing me. I ducked just in time to avoid it slamming into the side of my head. It hit the wall instead. A sickening crunch sounded through the room as it broke its own neck and fell motionless to the floor.
“Holy shit,” I said.
Miles moved closer to the dead bird. He poked at it with a toe. It didn’t move. That’s when I realized it wasn’t a cardinal at all. There were white tail feathers that hadn’t been coated in blood. This was another species.
“It’s a dove,” Miles said, answering my unspoken question.
“How did it get in? Do you have a fireplace or a window that’s open?”
“I don’t know…” Miles crouched so that he balanced on the balls of his feet. “There’s a note attached to its leg.”
“Hold on, don’t—”
Too late, Miles had already untied the small folded up piece of paper, just as red as the rest of the dead dove. I looked around the living room, wary of any danger that could possibly sneak up on us. I wasn’t an overly aggressive person—usually channeling any anger I had into hockey—but I felt myself ready to fight until my last breath to protect Miles. This had to end. He didn’t even need to read the note before I knew what this was linked to.