Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 128087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Boraleashe scoffed. “Leave it to Orestes to send trouble but no warning.”
“My charge, the dark lord, has been bathed in love and humility, my lords, not trouble. He is kind and unsullied. A being so dynamic and grand in stature that the universe sent its mightiest guardians to protect him.”
Zepharali didn’t realize he’d inched forward until he was a couple of feet from the sentinel.
“Lord of the East Wind, I present my master, the Lord of Fire and Warrior of the Flame. He is the Defiant of the Gods of Light and Master of the Shadows.” The old man extended his hand behind him. “Lords, you have the honor of standing in the presence of the world’s one and only firstborn tribrid, Prince Lazaaras Nyateagor.”
“Impossible.” Theodor blinked, his mouth falling open. “What have the lords of the dark worlds done?”
Boraleashe stood frozen for several moments before he snapped out of his shock and rushed to Zepharali’s side.
“A tribrid is forbidden, brother. It should’ve been stricken down by the gods at birth.”
Zepharali jerked away from Boraleashe’s clutch.
“Zeph,” his brother growled, “you send that Paleolithic scavenger and his prince of too many fuckin’ titles back to where they came from, lest your people suffer a fate even greater than mine.”
The only word ringing in Zepharali’s head was unsullied. Meaning never been touched or tarnished. Pure and impeccable.
“Let me see you.” He softly sent the request on his heated wind.
Lazaar
Lazaar was doing everything in his power to control his immediate urge to mount, bite, and suck Zepharali dry. He was certain the titan tasted as delicious as he smelled.
He even attempted to hold his breath.
Over the last couple of days, Lazaar had become familiar with the unique fragrances of honeysuckle and the juicy oranges—exactly how his beloved smelled—he’d consumed to satisfy his hunger.
Zepharali came close enough for Lazaar to lay his cheek against his thick chest.
Gods, please. Keep me sane.
This close, he could see Zepharali’s chiseled features, which held a determined expression that never wavered. His captivating gold, hazel, and jade glare roamed his face as if searching Lazaar for any signs of danger.
The ruler of the three suns stood over him, never breaking eye contact. He was a formidable guardian of this realm in his golden armor, with his gleaming sword gripped tight in his right hand.
Lazaar couldn’t look away if he tried. Zepharali was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
He’d been confined to a world consumed by shadows since birth. None of his people had such light features. He hadn’t even known they existed.
He was used to men, women, and various species having pale faces and skin from the lack of light, with black hair and dark eyes.
Zepharali was flawless, with all that tanned skin over bulging muscles he wanted to smooth his palms over.
Lazaar didn’t look away until Myst released a short, high-pitched screech. It was then he realized the mountainside was trembling with the sounds of an approaching army.
“Good. Perhaps your daughters can talk some sense into you.”
Lazaar was unimpressed and more than disappointed with his first impression of the real Arctic Titan. The tales had not done his coldness justice.
He could only hope Zepharali was a man who made his own choices and was not swayed or ruled by others.
“Greetings.”
Zepharali’s voice was better than the heat of his world, smoother and more melodic than he knew possible, luring him closer.
Lazaar barely contained his groan.
He wanted to speak, to respond, but his fangs had descended and were stabbing the underside of his tongue. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut tight and allow Oleksandr to speak for him until he could control his hunger and not appear so rabid.
It was already becoming difficult to remain in his regal posture.
“Where you’re from, is it not customary to return a greeting?”
Lazaar cut his eyes toward Oleksandr. Do something.
“Lord Zepharali,” his guardian started. “Prince Lazaaras is from the—”
“Silence,” the titan ordered, never turning away from him. “I know he can speak. I want to hear him answer.”
Oh no.
Lazaar began to tremble as the mountain shook harder. Myst grew anxious and inched closer, but she didn’t release her flames.
“Why have you been sent here?”
Lazaar blinked. Because you’ve been made my vampire’s beloved.
He’d be crazy to say that, regardless of the fact that his gums burned and his stomach clenched with unholy hunger.
He’d been fine for the couple of days Zepharali had been gone, but with his beloved’s return, his vampire senses were even more heightened, so much that he could hear the hot blood pumping in the titan’s veins and his heart pounding behind his thick armor.
Lazaar stayed upright with his knees locked and spine stiff despite how close Zepharali got.
His mouth watered, the scent of blood making his vampire predatory.
Oleksandr, help me!
“Why have you fled from the Earth Realm and—”