Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Reese?” Noah called again. I really should give him more credit. When it came down to it, his only concern was me and not the client, who was wearing clothing that cost more than I paid in rent each month.
Another wave of heat rolled over me, and I grit my teeth, trying to ignore it. Had I caught the flu? I’d felt fine that morning.
“Nice to meet you,” I ground out, looking at the client’s chin. I wanted to turn away from him, but I couldn’t seem to do it.
“This isn’t happening,” Mr. Boucher muttered.
“What the hell is going on here?” Noah barked, finally at the end of his patience. He took a couple of steps forward and pushed his way between me and the client, his back brushing against my arm.
I recoiled as fire flashed from the point of contact to the tips of my fingers.
“Reese, go back to work, honey,” Noah ordered gently, still staring at the client.
Mr. Boucher took another step backward, and I took an involuntary step forward. Unfortunately, the step brought me into contact with Noah, and I nearly fell on my ass as I jerked away again, my entire body twanging with the wrongness of the feeling.
“Stop,” Mr. Boucher ordered, his eyes on me.
“If you’d let me know what the problem is,” Noah said, lifting his hands in supplication. “We would love to have your family’s business, Mr. Boucher.”
“I’ll be in touch,” the Vampire replied. He stared at me for a long moment before turning on his heel and striding away.
By the time he disappeared through the doorway, it felt like I was coming apart at the seams. My entire body burned like I had the most wretched fever in existence. My eyes watered as sorrow beat behind my eyes. My hands shook. Beneath it all was a sense of overwhelming panic. What the hell was wrong with me?
Chapter 2
Beau
It wasn’t possible. I staggered to my car, my hands trembling. It just wasn’t possible.
I’d been waiting so long. Two lifetimes. I’d been patient. I’d sacrificed.
All of this was wrong. She was rude. Dismissive, even of her boss. Full of herself. She dressed like a child. It looked like a strong wind could blow her over. Her lips…
I’d barely started the engine when a call came through the speakers.
“Yeah,” I rasped out.
“Was it you?” Chance asked dubiously.
“It’s all wrong,” I replied, the hoarseness of my voice giving me away. “It’s not right.”
“What do you mean, it’s not right?”
“She’s—no, it can’t be. Something’s wrong.”
“I’d say something’s right,” he argued, relief making his tone shift. “What’s she like? Where’d you meet her? Didn’t you have that appointment at the bank this morning?”
I stared out the windshield, stunned. “She’s wrong,” I repeated. The past few minutes played on a loop. The conversation she’d been having when she came through the lobby. The stupid hat she’d been wearing at a jaunty angle. The wrinkle in her nose as she sang along to the music in her workroom. The way she’d argued with her boss. The sarcastic swagger as she’d called herself an artist. The way her eyes had traced over my face through the window. How those same eyes had widened in confusion when the heat rolled over her.
“You knew it wouldn’t be the same,” Chance said quietly. “Mordecai warned you it wouldn’t be.”
“I have to go,” I rasped. “I’m headed back to the house. We’ll talk then.”
“You’re leaving her?” he asked in disbelief.
I hung up without answering. I needed to get the fuck out of there. Pulling into traffic, I ignored the pit in my stomach that intensified as I got onto the freeway headed north. Half an hour later, I was pulled onto a side street, vomiting violently.
It would pass. I knew it would. I just had to wait it out.
EIGHTY-ONE YEARS EARLIER
“This is a fucking nightmare,” Zeke muttered as we picked our way through the rubble. “I don’t know why we’re not in Germany ending this.”
“You know exactly why,” I replied quietly, listening.
The treaty between our kind and humans had lasted a millennia for one reason—neither side crossed the line, ever. It was a solid truce by the time my brothers and I were born, but the elders remembered a time when the peace was a fragile thing, and they never let us forget it.
“We can alleviate suffering, but we cannot change the course of any war or conflict,” Zeke spat. “Which is bullshit, and you know it. How many times have we stepped in when asked, changing the course.”
“They have to ask.”
“Why the hell aren’t they asking?”
“No clue,” I breathed, looking over the destruction of the London street. There were people everywhere, calling out for family members and neighbors, the sounds of their fear grating along my skin.
“They’re so fragile,” Zeke whispered, striding forward.
I paused to listen for whatever he’d heard. There. Someone was weeping, mumbling words I couldn’t make out. It sounded like a woman, maybe a child. So quiet the humans around us would never hear her.