Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Hugo Alexander.
Philanthropist.
Protector of children no one else will save.
A man not interested in my body, only my talent.
He offers a partnership, not a price…
A gown for his foundation’s charity auction.
By day, Hugo and I form a genuine friendship. By night, screams tear through his walls, and I learn the gentlest man in this tower is the most haunted of them all.
But his ghosts aren’t the only ones in this house.
I’ve got secrets, too.
Ones I can’t reveal to a single soul.
Because the love of my life isn’t dead.
He’s gone underground, on the hunt for answers.
And one slip from me could put him back in danger.
A night was all it took.
An unexpected reunion.
One unbreakable rule broken.
Now I’m protecting the most miraculous secret of all.
And the stakes have never been so high.
Part 11 of The Zodiac Queen. Intended for mature readers who enjoy dark and explicit themes. Reader discretion is advised
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
January 13th
My name echoes through the dark, colliding with the rush in my ears. Dizziness sends my head into a tailspin, and I stumble back until the door braces me, holding me upright as my eyes reject what’s in front of me.
Because my mind is splitting down the middle—one half still drowning in weeks of crushing grief while the other processes the miracle of his presence.
That hoarse whisper shapes my name again, and I know it’s him.
The ghost of Sebastian Stone.
Moving toward me in the darkness.
Flesh and blood.
Alive.
Just as my knees buckle, a small squeak escapes my throat.
“I’ve got you,” he says, catching me before I hit the floor.
His arms lock around me as the world tilts, and the steady thump-thump of his heart drags me back, beat by beat. I can’t get a single word out to question the how or why. None of it matters.
Because Sebastian is alive.
That word loops in my mind as my eyes adjust to the unlit room, bringing his face into focus. Inky black hair falls in disarray, no trace of the blond I used to run my fingers through. Suddenly, the masked man I glimpsed at the ball comes back to me.
So familiar in stature, yet so out of place with that hair color.
“I thought I saw you…that was really you downstairs?”
“It was me.”
“How?”
“It’s a long story.” He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and we hold each other while the unbelievable trembles through us both. I have no idea how long we stand together, fused as one. I only know that everything feels right in my world.
Eventually, he pulls back and cradles my cheeks, thumbs wiping away drops of fragile hope, and we stare at each other.
Soundless and unmoving.
The kind of quiet that hums with life and reunion, bearing witness to souls bound, lost, and found again. I could live forever like this, wrapped in his arms without the clutter of words.
But even forever has a time limit.
An electronic chime slices through our sanctuary, followed by a sharp click as the mechanical lock disengages.
Sebastian’s blue eyes flash.
Someone is seconds away from entering my suite.
With the grace of a lion, he pulls me deeper into the room before slipping into the wardrobe alone.
I don’t have time to gather my wits. Light from the hall spills across the floor, outlining the familiar silhouette of Oliver. He steps inside, and the door shuts behind him as he flicks on a lamp. I blink against the sudden brightness, my gaze locking on the man who reshaped the ruins of my life these past few weeks.
Now I wish I could take back every treacherous second.
“You’ve been crying,” he says, reaching me in three long strides. His warm brown eyes track the wet streaks on my cheeks, the uneven rise of my chest, the way my arms hang limp at my sides. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I…” My heartbeat fumbles as I try to think of a believable lie. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, as if to steady me. As if I might collapse. “You’re shaking. Are you upset about the circle?” His frown deepens. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head, eyes downcast, but he won’t let me avoid him.
With a coaxing finger, he lifts my chin. “Then what happened since I saw you downstairs?”
What happened is standing ten feet away, hiding in the wardrobe.
“Nothing happened.” I pull in a breath, preparing to skirt the edge of honesty. “It’s the elixir. I think it’s still affecting me.”
“That’s not surprising. Dr. Morgan designed it to last for hours.” He reaches into the pocket of his dress slacks and withdraws a vial. “That’s why I brought the antidote, as promised.”
The small glass tube catches the lamplight, and something inside me recoils. An hour ago, I would have taken it without hesitation. Now it’s akin to betrayal.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. Words of objection, or at the very least, resistance, almost tumble from my mouth. But then he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and my thoughts scatter.
“Open,” he says, stepping closer and lifting the vial to my lips.
God help me, I follow his command.
The antidote hits my tongue, tasting of the power Oliver has over me. For several suspended moments, I hover somewhere outside myself, watching my body obey what my heart refuses to surrender.
His fingers glide down my collarbone to the top of my bodice. Then he dips lower, tracing lazy circles around my nipple, his thumb dragging the silk across the hardened peak. That single touch unravels me faster than it should. Before I can stop it, a shameful whimper slips out.
“There she is,” he says, voice low with satisfaction. “You have a tell, sweetheart. You flush when your pussy needs attention.” His mouth hovers at my ear. “I want the taste of you on my tongue.”