Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“I will guide your way,” she said. “Take the first ship you find in the Docking Bay and go at once. You will NOT be given a second chance.”
And just like that—she was gone.
The pressure vanished so abruptly that Burn gasped and rolled to his side, coughing, sucking in a deep breath as he tried to steady his spinning thoughts.
Noelle’s in danger. She’s in danger and we’re her only chance.
A sudden spark lit in his chest—a familiar psychic tug, urgent and familiar as though someone desperately wanted to talk to him.
Think-me, he realized. Someone’s trying to reach me.
And he knew who it was.
Bright.
He’d ignored every attempt until now—shut his best friend out completely. But this time, Burn didn’t hesitate.
He opened the channel.
“It’s Noelle—she’s in trouble!” Bright’s mental voice burst into his head like a tidal wave, filled with panic.
“Yes, I know!” Burn sent back instantly. “I’m on my way to the Docking Bay now!”
“Meet you there!” Bright shot back, and the connection snapped off, clean and sharp.
Burn was already moving.
He vaulted to his feet, his boots pounding against the floor as he sprinted from his quarters. The long corridors of the Mother Ship blurred around him, silver streaking past as he ran full tilt toward the Docking Bay.
His heart slammed in his chest. They had to find her—had to get her back.
Please, Goddess, he prayed, silently, fiercely. I don’t know what kind of danger our female is in… but let us reach her in time.
77
NOELLE
“You sure you’re okay? You don’t want me to walk you to your door?” the Beast Kindred pilot asked, glancing over at her from the controls as he powered down the shuttle.
“No thanks, it’s okay. I can manage.” Noelle forced a tight smile and unbuckled her harness.
The big warrior looked doubtful.
“Just say the word if you’re in trouble. You don’t seem too happy to be going home for Christmas.”
“Thanks, but it’s just a family thing,” she said, trying to smile. “It’s better if I go alone.”
She thanked him again and stepped off the Kindred shuttle, her boots hitting the cracked sidewalk at the far end of the street with a soft crunch. Cold air nipped at her cheeks. The sky above was the color of damp slate, fading from dusk to night, the streetlamps casting puddles of yellow light along the curb.
She adjusted her coat and began walking.
The neighborhood hadn’t changed. Her grandmother still lived in the same squat little bungalow at the end of the cul-de-sac, its faded yellow paint dim under the blinking strings of multi-colored Christmas lights. Plastic candy canes lined the path and a worn Nativity scene sagged in a neighbor’s yard, baby Jesus glowing faintly blue under a snow globe dome.
The world looked peaceful…but Noelle knew better.
She had spotted the unmarked black SUV from the sky—a matte monstrosity parked directly in front of her Abuela’s home. There was no license plate and the windows were tinted dark, doubtless to keep anyone from knowing who it was.
Her stomach clenched as she walked. The air smelled of woodsmoke—someone had lit a fire. Not surprising—it got cold in North Carolina this time of year.
She spotted him the moment she turned onto the sidewalk leading to her childhood home—Branson.
Her ex stood casually in the shadows, dressed in full tactical camo, the kind that looked more like a costume than an actual uniform. Gear straps…holsters…comms unit hooked to his shoulder. She could see his smirk before she got close enough to hear him.
He always did love a performance.
Power. Control. Hurt someone and walk away smiling. This job must be perfect for him. He’d been a cop before, but now he had even more power—he must love it.
“Well, well, there you are!” Branson exclaimed, stepping into the glow of a porch light. “What do you know? I thought you might want to see me again.”
Dios, I’ve never hated him more.
But Noelle smiled anyway—lips tight, eyes calm. She knew better than to provoke him.
“Branson, can’t we settle this like adults?” she asked, trying to sound reasonable, even as her pulse thundered in her ears. “There’s no need for all of this. Is there?”
“I don’t think so, babe. The only way we’re settling this is you coming home with me.”
He grabbed her arm—hard—and yanked her forward.
Noelle’s breath caught in her throat as his fingers bit into her skin.
“You shit all over my perfect life,” he growled, pulling her in close, his mouth just inches from hers. His breath reeked of stale coffee and cigarettes. “I had the perfect marriage and you fucked it all up! You ran away to fuck a bunch of asshole aliens! And now you’re gonna pay.”
“No—Branson, please—”
He seized the back of her head in one brutal grip, yanking her hair until her scalp burned, forcing her to look at her grandmother’s house.
“There she is,” he hissed in her ear. “Nice and cozy. But not for long.”