Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
He loved this small resort town, having lived here most of his life, and at this time of night, the cozy street was quiet. During the day, it was filled with tourists who came for the wonderful cafes and shops, and especially the galleries. The town was known for its art as well as Haystack Rock, which stood two hundred and thirty-five feet tall. And sometimes, like the night before, Rowan’s late-night company was the occasional elk who wandered through the town.
But tonight, all was silent. He wrapped his coat tighter around him and hurried in the direction of his apartment. He only lived three blocks from his work, so he didn’t bother driving, though he always had his keys on him. He gripped the cold metal in his pocket, wishing he’d remembered his gloves.
His mind was still occupied with thoughts of that beautiful superhuman in the dining area earlier. There had been something about him, about the way he’d looked at Rowan. It had filled Rowan’s stomach with butterflies, made his heart race. They’d stared at each other as if they recognized each other, which was ridiculous since he’d never seen the man before in his life. He would have remembered.
Normally, he’d scoff at the idea someone like that could be interested in him, but the desire on the man’s face had been so fucking blatant. Not just interest, but outright desire.
Nobody had ever looked at him like that.
He shivered, and not from the cold. What would sex with that man be like? Would it actually be good for the first time in his life? Would it even be close to the books he constantly read? Ones he knew were unrealistic but made him long for things nonetheless.
Running footsteps pulled him from his musings, and his head shot up to see that very man speeding toward him.
“Run!” the man yelled before unsheathing two daggers strapped to his back.
Before Rowan could move, something out of his worst nightmares appeared. Dirty rags barely covered a skeletal form that still had bits of skin intact. Black pits where eyes were supposed to be aimed his way as it hissed and rushed him, bringing a strong, acrid scent of rot. His stomach lurched just as the angel from earlier dashed in front of him, making the zombie creature stop and hiss again.
Then Rowan’s eyes flared open even wider as the creature just…misted away. He frantically looked around, only to stumble back when it reappeared right in front of him. It reached out, the bone tips of its fingers just brushing his coat before the angel was pushed aside and a dagger burst through the zombie’s chest.
It let out an inhuman, loud screech, then disappeared again.
Rowan spun around, sure it would be behind him that time, but all he saw was the angel leaping high into the air as he scanned the street.
“What the fuck?” Rowan yelled as the zombie solidified right in front of him once again. He looked into those black pits of eyes, gagging from the absolutely horrid stench emanating from the thing. It snarled, its hand snapping out to grab his arm.
Pain shot through him as it squeezed over the arm ring he always wore on his bicep. He cried out as the silver pinched into his arm and tried to jerk himself free.
Instead, the zombie was yanked from him as Rowan’s fantasy man threw him a fierce glare. “Run!” he yelled again.
Rowan didn’t stick around.
His fast breaths clouded the cold air as he sped toward his apartment, his steps loud on the pavement. Panic made his thoughts a jumbled mess in his head.
What the fuck was that thing?
And why the hell is it after me?
He was a nobody. Just a chef in a popular restaurant who had nothing to do with the supernatural world. The only thing that set him apart from anyone else was his ability to see through whatever magic they used to camouflage themselves. He’d learned at an early age that most people couldn’t see them. But nobody knew what he could see—he’d never told a soul.
He hit the stairs, not even pausing on his way to the second floor, only to come to a complete halt when he saw his open front door. The living room just beyond was completely trashed, cushion stuffing covering books and his smashed television.
“Fuck that,” he muttered, turning to run back downstairs. He yanked out his keys and unlocked the Honda he had parallel parked on the street. Inside, he didn’t bother with the heat, just peeled out of his space and took off. He didn’t know what to do or where to go. That…thing, that zombie-like thing, had obviously gotten to his place before it even came for him.
His fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard they ached, his breaths coming fast and hard.