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)
Cal meets my eyes from across the room, and I can tell by the way his blue eyes turn down beneath his mask, he’s confused.
Trust me, bro. I’m fucking confused.
Paranoia starts to flow into my veins. Is this some kind of mind control? Have we been sniffed out?
All the while, the pull keeps intensifying. It feels like someone tied a line to my sternum from across the room and is yanking as hard as they can.
My eyes follow the invisible string.
And that’s when I see her.
Dark hair that’s not black or brown but something in between falls in smooth waves down her back. Her blue eyes are clear and bright and almost glacial under the chandelier lights.
She’s standing near the base of the staircase, next to a large marble statue, and her posture only showcases grace. She’s downright beautiful as she laughs at something a man behind a mask whispers to her.
The pull tightens so hard my hand goes to my chest. Fuck me.
“Kane.” My brother Cal’s voice is in my ear. He’s closer now, but I can’t even look at him.
Because I’m not really here.
Because the second I saw her, something inside me locked.
It’s not attraction or curiosity. It’s need—for survival. Like every fucked-up cell in my vampire body has decided it will revolve around her for the rest of my fucking life.
Mine.
The room dulls. The music fades into static. And all the while, she hasn’t looked at me a single time. But she doesn’t need to. This thing—the thing that’s happening to me—doesn’t require eye contact. It only requires proximity.
She turns slightly, stepping away from one of the masked men, and the movement drags my attention with it like gravity just rewrote itself.
Cal steps in front of my line of sight deliberately. “Hey,” he says quietly. “What are you doing?”
“Appreciating the art.”
“There’s no fucking art on that side of the room.”
My quiet laugh comes out thin.
Cal tries to search my eyes because I’m probably acting like a total dumb fuck right now, but the pull just keeps growing stronger the more I look at her.
And that’s when it clicks—she’s here, at this preview, with the vampire elite.
She’s a part of it.
And she doesn’t look afraid. She looks…excited and proud. She is excited and proud. Her intentions stem from believing this is her purpose. She believes this is her version of a fairy tale.
She thinks this is a good thing.
She takes a few steps, and the magnetic force between us snaps tighter.
I can’t look away.
For the first time in my life, I understand exactly what Rook meant when he said it was immediate.
I know, without a doubt, that I am absolutely, undeniably, catastrophically screwed.
Because it’s her.
And I’ve found her in the middle of an event surrounded by elite vampires who want to kill me, and not only does she naïvely want to be here—want to be fucking mated to an elite vampire—she doesn’t even know I exist.
Blair
Tonight, I’m meant to be seen.
The mansion is enormous, and that’s saying something coming from a girl like me, because my parents’ estate in Boston is the kind of place people drool over. This place is so big and extravagant it somehow makes the fifteen-thousand-square-foot house I grew up in look like a starter home.
I’ve been to fancy parties—I’ve even attended red-carpet events—but I’ve never in my life been to something like this.
Marble floors gleam beneath the light of the chandeliers that drip with crystals the size of grapes, and glass display cases that would normally hold priceless sculptures now hold rows of champagne flutes instead. A string quartet provides the ambiance, while masked men move easily through the room in perfectly tailored suits.
And wow. Masks or not, it’s obvious these men didn’t get powerful by skipping the gym. Most of them are tall with broad shoulders and confident in that quiet way men get when they have a lot of money and power.
One of these men might choose me.
I catch my reflection in a darkened window and smooth a hand down the fabric of my dress. It’s cream and silk and took my mother and me hours to find during a shopping trip—for this very event—in New York.
I can’t believe it’s finally happening.
My hair and makeup are still intact, and just the right amount of cleavage peeks out from the neckline of my dress. Though, across the room, another girl in a red dress is making a much more aggressive cleavage presentation choice.
I swear, if she leans forward by just an inch, we’re all going to get a nipple shot.
Beautiful and sexy but not obscene, my mom would say.
I straighten my shoulders and look back toward the masked men moving through the room.
These men hold all the power and money and wealth in the world. And soon, one of them will hold all my dreams and my future.