Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 65167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“He’ll kill me,” Dominic growls.
“He won’t. He won’t know.”
“You think he won’t be able to smell me on you?” Dominic shakes his head. “Don’t you know anything about lycans, princess?”
“I know enough. I know that he’d rather you nourish me and his unborn child than to let us starve.”
“You don’t know Rogan.”
I open my mouth to argue but close it immediately.
He’s right. I don’t know Rogan. And he doesn’t know me. Everything between us was a lie concocted by my father.
Still, though, I will protect my child, and he craves the blood of his own kind.
“I’m going back in,” I say.
“Fine. Do what you want. There’s nothing there.”
But Dominic is wrong. I can hear Rogan. I hear his blood—that beautiful swishing sound as it flows through him. A shiver courses through me…and I feel him. Rogan.
He’s close, yet he’s far.
The portal is still there. Dominic just can’t access it.
But I can.
And I will.
Because Rogan is there. And something is stopping him from getting to me and his child.
He still believes we’re mated, and even if my father’s pheromone milkshake is no longer working, I still carry his seed.
His blood.
I enter the closet once more, walking past all of Rogan’s belongings and inhaling as I caress my abdomen. “We’re going to see your daddy, babe. We’re going to find out why he hasn’t come back.”
“Hannah!”
But Dominic’s voice sounds faraway, as if it’s coming through a time warp. I take another step forward, and then another.
One more breath, and I infuse myself with the alpha strength of my child’s father. The back of the closet looms closer, and it’s a dim wall…
Until it’s not.
I fly through and land with a whomp.
20
I rise, brush off my arms and legs, and then touch my abdomen, letting my unborn child know we’re all right. We’ve come through the portal unscathed.
My vision is clouded, and I open my eyes wide, but darkness surrounds me.
“Rogan!” I shout.
But the sound of my voice seems to dissipate into nothingness.
Where am I?
My stepfather’s lair, I assume. That’s where this portal took me before. But I sense nothing familiar here. Nothing at all.
I walk, hoping I’ll get somewhere because through the thick fog I can’t see my feet. Can’t see where I’m headed. Can’t see anything, really, except my hand in front of my face when I concentrate. Something is blinding me, keeping me from Rogan.
Keeping me from—
With my next step, the fog lifts. Before me stands a foreboding archway carved out of black stone. Onyx? Obsidian? I have no idea, and I don’t rightfully care. But then I see why my vision is no longer impaired. Torches flank the entrance, and they burn with eerie blue flames that cast obscure shadows seeming to writhe and dance along the walls.
But shadows of what? I’m the only person here. So how can I see shadows?
I walk closer to the arch, my heart beating at a pace that can’t be good for the baby. I close my eyes for a moment, breathe in deeply. Relax, Hannah. Relax for your child.
I open my eyes, but relaxation eludes me. Perhaps relaxation isn’t key. I touch my abdomen gently. I’ll protect you.
But to protect my child, I need to be on alert. My adrenaline needs to be flowing.
So relaxation? Not happening.
Etched into the arch are symbols I don’t recognize…but something in my body seems to know they’re inherently evil.
So yes. I’m in a demonic lair, but I’m not sure it’s Richard’s.
I continue forward and enter a vast chamber shrouded in a dense, smoky mist. More flickering torches line the walls, drawing my gaze to stalactites overhead. Are we underground?
Are we in the ether? Or are we still in my own plane of existence?
The combination of gloom and firelight makes my flesh crawl.
I brace myself, gather all the courage and love inside me. “Richard! Show yourself, you evil bastard!”
Nothing.
I take a few more steps on the uneven floor that’s strewn with knifes and arrows. Until—
“Shit!”
A human skull lays in my path. And next to it…
Oh God…
It’s not human.
It’s canine. Possibly lupine.
Possibly…
No, no, no! I carry Rogan’s child in me. If anything had happened to him, I’d feel it. Wouldn’t I?
I absently touch my belly once more. “It’s okay, baby,” I say softly.
I kick the two skulls out of my way and continue forward, gazing at the tapestries lining the walls. They’re all abstract in dark hues, yet they give me feelings of dread and despair, as if I can’t go on.
But I must go on.
I must.
I force my right leg to take a step, and then my left leg. Each step requires a forceful thought, as if I’m no longer capable of involuntary movement.
Finally, I make it.
Richard’s throne made of iron that is the center of the vast circular chamber.
The throne is empty, and the chamber is devoid of any natural light.