Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
“It was a close thing. The kelpie took her deep. I had to slit its throat before it would let her go. I damn near drowned myself.”
“That explains it.” Dante rubs a palm across his forehead. “Early this morning, Cian stopped breathing. It freaked me out. I really thought he was dead this time. He started again after a minute of my frantically shaking him. I was surprised that worked. He’s weaker than I thought.”
Beck slaps his cousin on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine now.” He turns to his horse and releases the saddle on its back. With an easy strength, he hefts the heavy saddle with one arm and smacks the horse’s rump with the other. “Go on now. Go rest.” The great beast lumbers off to wherever it goes to rest.
“You haven’t seen him.” Dante rushes after Beck. “He’s worse than ever. I don’t know if you can bring him back.”
I follow the small procession, trying to take in my new home as I hurry to keep up. It looks a little like a farm out of the shire from Lord of the Rings. If the inhabitants had averaged six and a half feet and let everything decay around them.
The front yard is badly in need of attention. There’s a small flower garden, but whatever grew there lost the battle against invading weeds long ago. There’s also an odd-looking motorcycle leaning against a fence. The bike proudly boasts a Harley-Davidson logo. So weird.
Beck sighs as he looks at the garden, completely ignoring the bike. There’s an air of unsurprised disappointment about him. “I suppose the vegetable garden is the same.”
“Worse.” Dante’s boot kicks the dirt where there should have been flowers growing. “Flanna and some girls from the village came and saved what they could. She said she would preserve the vegetables and make jelly from the strawberries, but that was all she could promise.”
Beck nods. “I’ll be sure to thank her in the morning. Her family is good to us. We’ll need every bit we can salvage if we’re going to make it through the winter.”
“Damn it, Beck. I can help.”
Whatever the vampire is about to say is cut off by Beck’s low growl. “I’ll provide for my wife.”
I slip my hand into Beck’s. Now is a good time to continue his training. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
I’m not. I am slightly terrified. The house, or brugh as Beck calls it, is small, and though solidly built, there’s an air of neglect about it. I have more work to do than I could have imagined. I try to let none of that slip through. I focus on giving off an air of trust and love.
“I promise you won’t go hungry,” Beck says, stroking my hair. He does it unconsciously now. He hasn’t started reaching for me yet, but when I touch him, he pulls me close and seems to revel in the contact.
“I know,” I say, giving him a sweet smile.
Beck sighs and squeezes my shoulders. “I’m going in, love. You stay out here for a moment with Dante. Let me get Cian ready. He’d kill me if I let you see him at his worst.”
The door opens and closes behind him. I’m left alone with a grinning Dante.
“The human learns,” Dante snarks.
I roll my eyes and punch him on the arm. I’ve never had an obnoxious brother, but that’s what Dante feels like. In some ways, I’m more comfortable with him than Beck. “I’ll have you know I’m highly educated, asshole. I have two degrees. How many do you have?”
“Only the one,” Dante allows. His chest puffs with pride. “I graduated from the most respected business college in America.”
“You mean Vampire America.” I really want to see what America looks like with vamps in control. “What did you major in? Boozing? Partying? Falling asleep in class?”
Dante looks thrilled with my new attitude. “The real Meggie Finn comes to life, thank the gods. I thought you were a little boring there for a while, but I caught the faintest hint of bitch, so I had hope. I merely minored in boozing, though I was excellent at it, thank you. I have a degree in management systems. How about you?”
“English and history,” I reply, looking out at the barn. It needs a coat of paint, but it seems solid. There’s a pen with what I hope are regular, non-homicidal sheep in the far field. I’m not going to presume. After all, the horses here try to eat people.
Dante snorts. “You studied English? Seriously? You got a degree in a language you already speak?”
“There’s more to it than that.” It’s not the first time I had to defend my choice of degrees. “There are novels, and the study of how to write.”
“The schools must be different there. I knew how to write in first grade. I guess you’re slower. All I know is my parents would never have paid for me to lounge around for four years studying a language I already knew how to speak and reading DLs. Maybe you should have taken a course in how to avoid getting eaten by deadly forest creatures.”