Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Her mother, Devney Windsor, follows behind her, and her teenage sister, Bonnie Windsor, appears bored.
The knot in my stomach grows.
I definitely shouldn’t be here. I should be in Concordia where Calloway is, keeping my ears open and making sure no one’s sniffing too close to Worcester.
Instead, I’m watching a rich girl buy clothes with the sole purpose of “impressing her future vampire husband.” A vampire husband who only exists in her mind, that is. The elites don’t give a shit about wedding bells. They just want blood. And to breed.
My phone buzzes.
Cal: What are you doing right now?
I glance at the message and then at Blair across the street.
Me: Just a little surveillance.
It’s not a lie. I mean, I am surveilling…her.
Blair laughs at something her little sister Bonnie says, nudging her gently with her elbow. Clearly, everything is peachy keen fucking jelly bean in her mind. She’s going to find her prince charming vampire and live happily ever after once she’s chosen by him at the Selection—or the “Choosing Ceremony,” as she’s eloquently dressed it up when talking about it with her mother.
Mind you, what Blair is excited about is not a choosing or a ceremony. It’s a fucking auction where rich, vile bloodsuckers pay for her blood, for her virginity, and for the right to do as they please—for her. Like she’s a damn Volkswagen.
There’s nothing ceremonial or romantic about it.
Also, seeing as the first time I laid eyes on Blair Windsor was less than twenty-four hours ago and I know her full name and everyone in her family’s names, I do realize I am well past stalker territory here.
Not to mention, the intense amount of eavesdropping I’ve been doing over the past two hours has given me a plethora of knowledge about Blair Windsor, and Google has certainly helped answer some of the questions I’ve had.
Blair Windsor is twenty-three years old.
Her father, Harry Windsor, is the CEO of a Fortune 500 company that sells medical devices, and he sits on several boards within the medical and tech communities. Her family isn’t just rich, but rich. She’s lived her entire life with a golden spoon in her pretty little mouth, and I couldn’t be further from the type of man she’s imagined in her mind.
I’m blue-collar, working class, and callused hands. To her, I’m probably no better than gum on the bottom of her shoe.
Unfortunately for me, I’m hopelessly locked in on her.
She’s my fucking fate.
And it’s really starting to make sense why Rook acted like a moron whenever Kylie was around.
Cal: Everything good?
I watch Blair flip her hair over her shoulder before pulling a tube of lip gloss out of her purse. Her younger sister Bonnie bounces around her, and Blair rolls her eyes while she slides the gloss over her luscious mouth.
My chest clenches, and a jolt zaps my fucking nerves at the sight of her perfect pink mouth.
And then my stupid phone buzzes in my pocket again.
Cal: Where are you?
Shit. I stare at it for a second too long.
Me: Concordia. Same as you.
I’m nowhere near Concordia right now, and this might be the first time I’ve ever lied to my brother about something this important.
Cal: Where at in Concordia?
Me: Just around. Trying to keep moving, you know? Not staying in one place for too long.
Cal: What are you seeing?
Fuck me. What is this, an interrogation?
I glance up. Blair laughs at something Bonnie says again. Devney doesn’t laugh but gives a small smile, and I reckon that makes her a regular comedian. And they head to the next store.
Me: Uh…nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to worry about.
Cal: Worcester was quiet when I was there. No tails on me coming or going. Kylie hasn’t bolted.
Me: How’s Rook?
Cal: He’s good, actually.
Me: So…it’s working out?
Cal: Well, fuck yeah, it’s working out. Fated mates, bro.
Fated mates, bro. Yeah. Fucking tell me about it.
I look up from my phone on instinct, and Blair, her sister Bonnie, and her mom walk back out of a store and head to the next one. Must have been a disappointing showing in there.
Cal: You seen Holland?
Me: No.
Cal: Well, if you see him, keep eyes on him. If he moves, I want to know.
I type back with my thumb without looking down, watching the sun bounce off Blair Windsor’s hair and her pretty fucking skin instead.
Me: You got it.
Across the street, Blair stops near a window display, adjusting her coat while Devney prattles on about some dress she thought Blair should’ve bought.
My phone buzzes for what feels like the millionth fucking time.
Cal: Change of plans, let’s meet up now. Describe the scene.
I hesitate. He wants to know where I am right now.
Shit.
Me: Same old. Mall. Shops. People.
Cal: Why are you at the fucking mall?
Across the street, Blair turns her head slightly, scanning the crowd before she refocuses on her mom as she talks intently about fashion choices and which stores they need to go to next.