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)
My parents trust these people. It’s the inner circle they’ve been a part of my whole life. And it’s just a couple of freaking days. It’s not as if I’m being shipped off to Siberia, never to be heard from again.
My fingers hover over the screen. I almost send my mom a text message, asking her if she feels like it’s okay, but I don’t.
I’m an adult woman, for goodness’ sake. This is my life. This is my future. I’ve totally got this.
I return to my suitcase and add another dress. Then heels. Then lingerie I bought months ago and pretended I wasn’t buying for whatever vampire legend I ended up with.
Damien is a legend; Holland’s made that clear.
And a few days is a good freaking thing. It’s giving “he’s serious about me” vibes.
I set my phone facedown on my nightstand, and I sit on the edge of my bed and try to summon the champagne feeling from this morning.
The floating. The certainty. It’s there. Mostly.
On a whim, I grab my vampire doll from his spot on my shelf and tuck it into the side of my suitcase underneath some of my clothes. I know it’s a little childish to bring a doll to a dalliance with a vampire, but he’s always brought me comfort—and if I hide him well enough, no one has to know.
A soft knock taps against my door before it creaks open.
Bonnie slips inside without waiting for permission, wearing one of my oversized sweaters and fuzzy socks.
I almost startle, but with a wildly beating heart and every molecule of willpower, I stop myself. It'll only lead to questions I don’t want to answer about my green-and-violet-eyed stowaway.
She leans against the doorframe and folds her arms. “So,” she says.
“So…?” I ask.
“You’re really going tomorrow.”
I roll my eyes. “Bonnie. Not this again.” Ever since she heard about my trip tomorrow, she’s been telling me not to go.
“No, I mean it.” She pushes off the door and wanders farther into the room. “You’re flying to New York to spend the day with some mysterious man named Damien, and everyone’s acting like it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened.”
“Well…it kind of is.”
She walks over to my bed and looks inside my suitcase. “Doesn’t this feel weird to you?”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
“It feels exciting, Bon.”
She makes a face. “It feels like a very classy version of an arranged marriage.”
“It’s not arranged.”
“Blair,” she says dryly, “you’ve been raised your whole life knowing some vampire was eventually going to pick you. You’re a twenty-three-year-old virgin because you’re literally saving yourself for the big bonding night that Mom’s talked about for years.”
“What does my virginity have to do with anything?” I question, but then my eyes go wide when realization hits me. “Bonnie, you are only fifteen years old. I swear on everything, if you let that prick boyfriend of yours take your virginity, I will murder him.”
“Relax.” She snorts. “I wouldn’t let someone named Josh get my V-card. I’m saving myself for Harry Styles, and anyway, this conversation isn’t about me, Blair. It’s about you and your soon-to-be arranged marriage. Which is weird. Like, really weird.”
“It’s tradition, Bon.” I laugh despite myself.
“Tradition,” she mocks immediately. “The generational skips are the best thing that’s ever happened to my future. I don’t want to be married off to Count Dracula.”
I shake my head and fold another shirt. “You say that now.”
“No,” she says. “I mean it. You get the fancy vampire husband and the mysterious elite life. I get to marry a normal human who eats pizza and doesn’t drink my blood.”
“Dang, sis. Dramatic much?”
Her sarcasm fades a little as she watches me toss another shirt into my suitcase. “You’re not nervous?”
“A little,” I admit. “But that’s normal.”
“I guess.” She shrugs, but the edge of concern lingers in her voice. “I just don’t love the idea of you flying off to meet some man none of us actually knows.”
“He’s part of the inner circle,” I remind her.
“That’s the part that makes it weird.”
I walk over and bump my shoulder into hers. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“You better be.”
“I will.”
“Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to packing, then.” She turns to leave but hesitates in my doorway. “Blair?”
“Yeah?”
“If he turns out to be creepy, just text me and I’ll come to New York and drag you home myself.”
I grin. “Thanks, Bon, but I’m certain everything is going to be good.”
“Whatever you say.” She rolls her eyes at my confidence but smiles a little before disappearing down the hall.
Once I finish packing my suitcase and get ready for bed, I lie back against my pillows and stare at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, I will be one step closer to being chosen.
And that’s a privilege…right?
Right. Yes. Of course, it’s a freaking privilege.
I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.