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)
“Why would anyone ever agree to that?” Pandora asked, since Dante seemed to be full of answers.
“Pay him,” Dante said.
“I don’t have any money.”
“From your inheritance, Pandy.” Dante rolled his eyes at her. “Get someone to agree to it. Maybe someone who needs the money. Agree to some terms. Then parade him around the family like some epic whirlwind romance. Really sell it,” he added. “You know how Mum is.”
If by “how she is” Dante meant almost alarmingly perceptive and great at sniffing out a lie, then, yes, Pandora was painfully aware. Like the time Pandora had claimed she’d gone out all night hunting prey, only to have her mother take one sniff at her and know she’d spent the night at a coffee shop sipping chamomile tea and reading a book about rival dog groomers falling in love and living happily ever after.
“Then, once everyone is convinced, plan the wedding, get married, stay married for a while, get your money, and get a divorce. Claim things just didn’t work out. You weren’t compatible after all. Very sad and all that. Then just … take your money and live your undead life.”
He made it all sound so doable. Easy, even.
And, hey, there had to be an endless pool of men who needed some extra cash just like she did.
She would have to work fast if she was going to do this.
“Dante, I think you may have just saved …” She trailed off at the sound of heels clicking across the tile floor.
Their mother was awake.
Awake and in heels within moments of climbing out of her coffin.
Ophelia Von Ashmore was nothing if not the most elegant woman in every room.
Pandora turned to see her mother move into the space, her heels clicking, but she seemed to glide over. Her body was clad in a floor-length crimson velvet dress that hugged every curve. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, perfectly styled even after a full night of lying in a coffin. Her porcelain skin contrasted stunningly against her inky brows and lashes, making her brilliant blue eyes stand out all the more.
Every time she looked at her mother, Pandora understood why their father remained so enamored with her even after centuries at each other’s side. She was easily the most beautiful woman Pandora had ever seen.
“What have we here?” Ophelia asked in that smooth, sultry voice of hers, looking between her children, making Pandora resist the urge to squirm.
“Good evening, Mother,” Pandora said, determined to act as if nothing was wrong at all. And, more importantly, that she wasn’t scheming against the terms her parents – most especially her mother – had spelled out the night before.
“Pandora,” Ophelia said, inspecting her eldest daughter from head to toe, making Pandora painfully aware of her jeans and simple black work T-shirt with Luna Bean’s logo across her chest. And, perhaps most grievously in her mum’s eyes, her white canvas trainers, complete with a coffee stain on one toe. “Have you recovered from last night’s dramatics?”
“Hello, Mum,” Dante said, drawing Ophelia’s attention away from her daughter.
“Dante, my dear,” Ophelia said, walking over toward her son with her hand outstretched, her stiletto-shaped nails painted the colour of fresh blood. She leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, leaving red stains on his skin.
Ophelia had always had a soft spot for her son. Indulged his every whim. Forgiven every trespass.
Thankfully, Dante didn’t use that favor against his sister. If anything, he attempted to distract their mother’s attention away from Pandora whenever possible.
“Good evening, family.” Pandora’s father’s voice boomed as he moved into the kitchen.
He, unlike their mother, had yet to dress for the day, moving into the space in black silk pyjamas and a cinched maroon dressing gown.
Lucian Von Ashmore was an intimidating man. Tall and fit, with dark brown hair, nearly black eyes, and classic, aristocratic features.
To others, Lucian was terrifying enough to make perceptive humans turn and run when faced with him in a dark alley.
To Pandora, he was a doting, loving father. Who indulged his daughter the same way their mother indulged Dante.
“My love, my eternal life,” Lucian said, grabbing Ophelia, bending her backward, and placing a kiss on her lips.
A long one.
Long enough for Pandora to look away uncomfortably and Dante to reach up and rub a hand down his face.
“What are we discussing?” Lucian asked once he set his wife back onto her heels.
“I have yet to ascertain that, darling,” Ophelia said, running a hand up her husband’s chest.
“We were just catching up,” Pandora said.
“Yep. Catching up.”
“While on that topic,” Ophelia said. “We will be having guests this weekend.”
Pandora resisted a sigh, wondering which eccentric aunt, uncle, or distant cousin would be coming to stay.
Their last guest had been with them for two years and had had an alarmingly elaborate feeding ritual that included hours of chanting at the moon in dead languages before finally making his way out to find a vein to tap.