Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Yet there was utility in this meeting, wasn’t there. Something had been jelling for Dev, something that was radical, impossible, and dangerous as hell.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that female,” he said roughly.
“Well, she’s never seeing you again,” the bigger vampire snapped. “Ever.”
Yeah, he’d heard that.
“You want to get to Lash.” He looked directly into the taller one’s pale green eyes and let the male’s thoughts flow through him. “It’s your first and only goal, isn’t it. Except… no, there’s a shadow, too. Of a female—”
The punch came flying from the right, and the follow-through was masterful. As Dev’s head snapped back, he spat blood and slowly righted himself on his feet.
“Okay,” he muttered. “We’ll leave the female stuff alone. But like I can’t read your thoughts clear as day? You want Lash, I can take you to him.”
Even if Lyric had rightfully fucked him off, even if she’d all but banished him from what he feared might be her death, that didn’t mean he couldn’t help her, help her species. Meeting her, bonding with her—in the way of a male vampire—had transformed his world, shaking him out of his solitude, waking him up to a purpose he never would have contemplated before.
Because he’d been too busy being bitched at the cards destiny had dealt him. Or parents, rather.
Nothing like true love to change your course. Too bad this was going to be a solo flight, not that he blamed Lyric—oh, God, what if she was dying?
“I can take you to my father,” he said because he couldn’t bear where his thoughts were going. “In honor of her. I will… take you to my sire. Hell, I want him eradicated, too.”
There was a tense silence as the pair of vampires did all kinds of shocked-to-the-core math. And all he could think of was Lyric, down on that floor, bleeding out while conventional medical help was “on the way.”
It wasn’t going to be enough to save her—
“Why would the heir to the Lessening Society want to give up his own sire,” the shorter one demanded.
“The two of you are the very last people I should have to spell that out to.”
“I don’t trust you. At all.”
Dev lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I wouldn’t either.”
“What proof do you have that you’re not going to fuck us—”
“He’s trying to kill the female I love and everybody who’s like her. What more proof do I need to have.”
On that note, he got fed up with the stalling and was gripped by a sudden, prescient terror. So he dematerialized out from under them.
In a scatter of molecules, Dev traveled down through the floors that separated him from Lyric, returning to his studio. There were all kinds of people standing around her now, and for a moment, he kept himself invisible in the corner, wrapping his arms around his chest as he made sure no one sensed his presence… not the members of the Black Dagger Brotherhood who’d arrived—he recognized them by the blades holstered upon their chests. Not the medical staff who’d come—one of whom appeared to be a ghost? Not that male who did not leave Lyric’s side.
So Dev was there.
When Lyric died.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Conrahd Mainscowl the Elder hovered in the doorway of Whestmorel’s bedroom. The male was still laid out upon the monogrammed duvet, but sometime during the day, his clothing had been removed and replaced with satin bedclothes that were like a dark stain upon the paler sheetings. The room had also been darkened, and something else had changed: There was a strange scent on the air.
A sickly sweet undertow that lingered in the sinuses.
As alarm bells continued to ring in Conrahd’s mind, he took pains to calm himself with rational considerations. There had been many opportunities to take control of the movement along the way. Slipups of Whestmorel’s leadership. Suspicions among the ranks. And then leaving Jenshen behind in that hidden room at their “leader’s” house, still alive, just to punish the male for asking questions.
Alive.
That had been the most egregious fault thus far. There had been no reason to leave that loose end. If Whestmorel wanted the male out because he was a weak link, then kill him. But no, the ego had always been more important to their supposed overlord. He’d known damn well the Brotherhood would soon enough take possession of that mansion as the treasonous plot had come to fruition, and he’d been determined to provide them with proof of his cruelty, proof of his aggression… that he could torture someone to within an inch of death and walk away. Of course, he’d taken for granted that Jenshen would expire before he was discovered, but who could know whether that actually had occurred.
And what a loose end.
Following that? This move out here to this glass house on the shores of Lake George. They needed to be underground in a bunker, not drinking bourbon and staring out over the view like there was any kind of imperial horizon to contemplate. There was not anything to regard. Yet. There was nothing but plans and work, and the reach-out to the Omega’s son.