Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Hey.” Victor stepped forward, moving himself between the man and Pandora. “No, you need to step back,” he said, pulling himself up to full height.
“Repent now, before she devours your soul!”
“Back off.” Victor took another step toward the man.
“Victor, it’s OK,” she said, grabbing the back of Victor’s shirt, trying to pull him back.
“It’s not OK. He was in your face.”
Pandora couldn’t help but be charmed by his protectiveness.
When the man came back once again, Victor’s arm went around her, ushering her into the train car once it stopped and its doors opened.
“Don’t follow her,” he said to the man, who was on a mission to warn the world about her true nature. Then Victor stood between her and the man until the doors closed.
Pandora almost didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to do anything that would make Victor realize his arm was still draped protectively around her and release her. But as the silence stretched between them, she felt she had to be the one to break it.
“It’s sad that he has nowhere else to go,” she said, meaning that. Sure, he might be trying to out her and he wasn’t as crazy as society likely thought he was, but no one should be living on the streets or in the tunnels. Especially as the weather was getting cold.
“It is.” Victor glanced down at her.
“Thank you for getting between us,” she said.
“Of course.”
Then, noticing he was still holding on to her, his arm fell away. Pandora found herself aching for the warmth of him, but she sat in the seat he found for her, pretending she wasn’t getting more and more anxious with each passing moment.
“Are you cold?” Victor asked as they walked, the wind whipping them as they progressed forward, sending dried leaves flying around in little tornados.
“I’m OK,” she said, though Victor gave her a dubious glance.
“I should have bought the suit. At least I would have had the jacket for you.”
“We’re almost there,” she said, seeing the turrets of the Von Ashmore estate up ahead.
She didn’t point out her home, knowing that the glamour would give him the heebie-jeebies if she pointed it out now.
“This is your home?” Victor asked as they entered the grounds a few moments later, their shoes crunching on freshly fallen leaves.
“Yes,” she said, watching his wide eyes, the way his posture went a little tight again.
Feeling like he needed support every bit as much as she did right then, Pandora reached for Victor’s hand, giving it a squeeze. He squeezed back, looking down at her and giving her a nod.
“We can do this,” she said.
Then they started to move toward the cobblestone path.
Where Pandora froze as voices – far, far too many voices – drifted out of the old house.
She gasped. “Oh … oh, no.”
“What is it?” Victor asked, as Pandora’s gaze flew toward the street, seeing something she had missed.
At least a dozen very familiar cars.
This was supposed to be a small meet-and-greet between her parents and Victor.
Why the hell was her whole family there?
“Pandora, what’s wrong?” Victor asked.
She couldn’t answer, though, not as her mind swirled with about a million ways this night could go epically, monumentally, wrong.
She was about to suggest they turn back, walk away, do this some other time, when the front door flew open and there was her great-aunt Ravenna.
Ravenna was a force of nature wrapped in layers of crimson velvet. She was short and delightfully round with wild, silver curls that seemed to have a life of their own, springing out in every direction as if perpetually caught in an invisible wind.
Ravenna was dressed, as usual, in a deep-red velvet gown, with billowing sleeves embroidered with golden threads and cut scandalously low in front, revealing a generous amount of décolletage that defied both gravity and propriety.
Around her neck was a large ruby that danced upon her cleavage whenever she gestured with dramatic flair. Which was often.
Ravenna was the kind of woman whose presence filled every room she entered, whose over-the-top personality demanded to be noticed.
Even from yards away, Pandora caught a whiff of her great-aunt’s heavy-handed perfume, notes of amber and patchouli drifting to them on the breeze.
Here’s the happy couple!” Ravenna threw her arms up in the air.
“I’m so sorry,” Pandora whispered to Victor.
“Come! Come!” Ravenna called out. “You’re late to your own engagement party!”
12
“This could not be happening.
It was supposed to be a low-key affair.
But through the open door where Ravenna was standing, Pandora could hear laughter echoing off the high ceilings and the animated hum of conversations drifting out into the night.
“It’s gonna be all right,” Victor said, sensing her rising panic and giving her hand a squeeze before starting to pull her forward.
Ravenna turned and made her way into the sitting room, waving her arms out toward the crowd, her long sleeves dangerously close to gliding into someone’s glass that Pandora hoped to hell was filled with wine, not blood.