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)
Jacking upright in his satin sheets, he slapped his hand to his bedside table and snapped the goddamn cell up to his ear.
“Did you find him? Tell me you found—”
The Brother Vishous’s voice was deep as the low note on a Steinway and dry as a desert. “Yeah, L.W.’s been located.”
“And he’s alive.” He kept that a statement, as if any hint of inquiry on his part would make the answer more likely to be in the negative. “He is alive—”
“Yeah, he is.”
Shuli took a deep breath. “Thank Lassiter.”
“Wrath found him.”
“Where? What happened? When—”
“That’s not why I’m calling you—for the third time.” There was a shht and then an exhale, and Shuli could just picture the Brother lighting up one of his hand-rolleds. “You need to answer your fucking phone.”
Next to him, the sheets started moving, and he nearly jabbed his hand under his pillow for the knife he kept there—until he recognized the dark hair, the breast, the naked hip.
Shit, lucky for her there was a glow from the bathroom or she woulda woken up dead. And fucking hell, the tail end of the night was coming back to him now. He’d gotten shitfaced, done a couple of lines of coke at Marhalle’s, and ended up bringing home—
The woman looked at him with unfocused dark eyes. “Well, helllllo.”
Closing his eyes, he said into his phone, “Sorry. I think I passed out for a while there.”
Which explained why he didn’t get any of the texts that had no doubt been sent about L.W.
“We want you at the Audience House in an hour.”
“Okay, I’ll see you—”
The call ended, and he stared at the screen. Ah, right. There had actually been seven missed reach-out-and-touches, as well as those group texts. It was a wonder the Brotherhood hadn’t shown up here with their black daggers out and a coffin as a chaser the second the sun went bye-bye.
“Where are you going?” the woman asked as she reached through the sheets.
As her hand found his dick with the same accuracy his had grabbed his phone, he swung his legs out and put his feet on the carpeted floor.
“I gotta go.” He cleared his throat. “My butler will take you home.”
“Do you always wake up in a bad mood?”
Well, considering he was about to be killed for not doing a job he didn’t want because a selfish royal fuck had fucked him off in the middle of the war—yeah, he was a little cranky.
“You know, I have ways of cheering a man up.”
The sinuous way she rolled over and swept that glossy hair back over her shoulder had no doubt been a successful play many a time.
“My butler will pay you.” And then, because he wasn’t a total shit, he eased back down and kissed her pouty lips. “Thanks for all the fun.”
“Keep me in mind.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
As he stood up, he swallowed a curse while he hit the summoning button under the lip of the bedside table. Then he limped over toward the loo with the full confidence that his bedroom would be empty when he came out: Willhis, his head doggen, would make sure she used one of the guest rooms to straighten herself before he escorted her down to the car and took her wherever she wanted to go.
And no, she would never know she’d been with a vampire.
Shutting himself in his black agate bathroom, he didn’t make it over to the shower to start the water. His battered feet required an immediate interview, so he sat down on the padded stool in front of the double sinks and cocked one leg up.
The bloody blisters were concentrated on the back of the heel and the side of the big toe. He could feel that the same was true for the other foot, and as a twin set of heartbeats started to thump, he closed his eyes.
So many alleys. So many streets.
After Qhuinn had gone full confrontation with him in that alley outside of Bathe, Shuli had been taken off rotation and told to go home. But like that was going to happen. He’d walked the field for hours looking for his cocksucking roommate, to the point where he’d been a fucking zombie by the time his best friend, Nate, had found him and forced him into a car.
Even now, he wasn’t sure whether he’d been looking for L.W. to save his own life—or just so he could punch the heir to the throne in the nads.
Then again, the two were not mutually exclusive.
And that was how he’d ended up at Marhalle’s. If he’d stayed home and waited around? And L.W. had been walked through his door, all nonchalant-dick-in-his-hand?
Talk about waking up dead.
Marhalle, on the other hand, had given him exactly what he needed, right down to the escort: A brunette who had looked as different from Lyric as possible.