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)
The wind shifts, carrying the scent of rain.
“I was raised around the elites,” she snaps. “Pretty sure I know them better than you.”
“You only know what they wanted you to know. You only saw what they wanted you to see.”
She laughs, but it’s brittle. “Well, I know I saw you kill two men in my driveway.”
“Yeah. I did. Because their plans for you were worse,” I answer without hesitation. “They’d have used and abused you before discarding you entirely. So, I preempted. Did to them before they could do to you. And I’d do it again.”
Her breath stutters slightly at how easily I admit it. “You say that like it doesn’t matter.”
“It mattered.”
“Then why aren’t you acting like it?”
“Because if I hadn’t killed them,” I respond, “they would’ve delivered you to a man who sees you as property. He had zero good intentions, Blair. You weren’t going to come back from New York, one way or another. Your mom and dad? Your sister Bonnie? All a fading memory of the past.”
“Shut up.” A little gasp escapes her throat. “You don’t know that.”
“But I do, Blair. I’m not lying to you. But everyone else has been.”
Her composure cracks just a little. “My parents would never—”
“They raised you to believe being chosen is an honor because they probably think it is.”
“Because it is,” she retorts, but even I can feel her emotions waver over it. At this point, she’s starting to question everything—including her parents.
“Is it, though?” I ask quietly. “Is it an honor to have men pay to own you? To treat you like property or a possession? To give you no choice when you’re drawn from or your body used otherwise? Because that’s how it would be, Blair. You, at their beck and call.”
Her face goes pale. “That’s not what it is.”
“It’s an auction, Blair. It’s a fucking auction, and you were going to be sold to the highest bidder,” I tell her the truth, even though I know it’s impossibly hard for her to hear. “You think they’re choosing wives? They’re choosing bloodlines. It has absolutely nothing to do with love or romance or marriage. It has to do with the power your blood will bring them and because they want to breed you. That’s all they want from you.”
Her breathing gets faster. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“Do you even realize what you’re saying right now?” She swallows hard. “You’re basically telling me that my parents groomed me to believe a lie that ends with me being trafficked.”
“I’m not saying they were grooming you intentionally, Blair. Honestly, I don’t think they know the truth.”
The first drop of rain hits our shoulders and then another and then another. We’re both starting to get soaked, Blair’s hair is already dripping wet, but she doesn’t move.
So, I don’t move either.
“Your parents think it’s status,” I say. “They probably even think they’re providing you with a secure life, maybe accepting the dowry and squiring it away to maintain your lifestyle. But that’s not the reality.”
Her eyes shine with tears, and her bottom lip trembles.
But I have to keep going. I have to keep telling her the reality. “When was the last time any Windsor woman went to a Selection, Blair?”
“I don’t know,” she spits.
“You do know. But you don’t want to think about the reality of it.”
“Think about the reality of it?” she questions, and a deep exhale leaves her lungs. “Pretty sure my great-aunt Estelle is doing just fine in Rome. Because that’s where she ended up with her vampire elite husband.”
“So, you keep in touch with her?” I question, and she shakes her head.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
And there it is. The crack in her foundation. We both know there’s no one in the Windsor family who has had contact with Estelle Windsor since she was bought and sold to the elite in Rome at the ripe age of twenty-two. It’s not information I should have, but I have it. Because I’ll do anything I can to protect Blair. Even if she hates me for it.
Though, I can imagine her family has filled her head with all kinds of fantasies about what happened to her great-aunt. Hell, the elites have probably fed them the fucking lies. Those bastards probably let the Windsors believe Estelle lives this rich Italian life and simply doesn’t have time to see or talk to anyone. She’s too busy being wealthy and pampered and wonderful.
In reality, Estelle Windsor is dead. And she’s been dead for a very long time. I almost open my mouth to tell her that, but I know it would be too much. I know it would be beyond cruel.
“Blair, I’m not trying to hurt you,” I whisper. “In fact, hurting you feels akin to lighting myself on fire. It goes against everything inside me. I’m just trying to protect you. I’m just trying to keep you safe. That’s it. That’s all I’m doing.”