Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
“For their part, there’s a montage of previously bonded couples playing via a projector on the wall above them,” he answers. “It’s comforting for them to see the happiness on the faces of their predecessors and ancestors, and for our part, it gives us a chance to see their faces more clearly.”
Forcing myself to scan the faces of the innocent women below, I log them into my memory and vow internally to set them free from the chains of a fate they cannot and should not have to foresee.
What these men here intend to do with them is both self-serving and morally compromised in every way it can be.
I know there may be a couple among this group of vampires who don’t fully understand the implications of buying a woman to use for their own consumption and enrichment of power—or, I don’t know, maybe I’m just hoping there are for the sake of my sanity—but the practice is archaic and repulsive, and I can’t, in good conscience or moral heart, allow it to go on for another year.
This one will be the end. This one will—
Everything inside me freezes as a face peeks through the crowd below, upturned in something much, much different than a smile.
Her pale-yellow dress further highlights the sick pallor of her skin as she watches the supposed movie rolodex of couples who came before her, and a grimace turns down the corners of her perfectly pink mouth.
She looks…wrong here.
My body leans toward the glass before I even realize I’ve moved, and a strange pressure spreads through my chest, tightening with every second my eyes stay locked on her.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her name, but the thought slams to a halt as something hits me with the force of a fist to the gut.
The room fades.
The noise disappears.
All that exists is her.
And the terrifying certainty blooming inside my chest.
This is it, I think, as wonder and regret and something dangerously close to grief twist at every nerve-ending inside my body. This is the feeling my brothers both had. This is the change. Immediate. All-consuming. Irreversible.
She—whoever she is—is my fated mate.
I know it as well as I know that Calloway Slater is my own name.
Suddenly, the pull to the glass makes perfect sense.
But it also means everything about this situation just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
Romy
This is officially the night that will never end.
Look, I know vampires don’t need sleep—or food or water, for that matter—but I, for one, could use a bed…or possibly a coma I won’t wake up from. Honestly, I’m not picky.
Abigail drags me over by the elbow to yet another group of women, officially making me the adopted puppy she can’t get rid of without a turn of conscience now.
I pick another flute of champagne off a passing tray, willing myself to sip it with intention rather than downing the damn thing—like I did with the two before it—because my head is starting to feel a wee bit tipsy.
I’m not much of a drinker, and my stomach is still empty, so the staggering effects of alcohol are well on their way to opening me up to even more vulnerability.
At the same time, the idea of numbing myself as a way to cope with the batshit-crazy enthusiasm of the gross majority of these women is compelling, to say the least.
“Romy, this is Chastity, Margo, and Hillary,” Abigail says by way of introduction. “Romy, these are the girls.” They all giggle at Abigail’s mayoral ability to somehow already know nearly everyone in the room after an hour of mingling, and I suck in a breath before slapping on a smile and offering a halfhearted wave.
“Hi,” I say. “Nice to meet all of you.”
“I like your dress, Romy,” the woman I think Abigail said was Hillary adds. Her smile seems genuine, if a little timid, and I latch on to the authenticity immediately.
“Thanks. My mother didn’t love the yellow, but I convinced her because of the fabric. The only thing I’ve been wishing all night is that I could have talked her into a blazer. It’s freezing in here.”
“I know!” Hillary agrees, officially breaking us off into our own little conversation as Abigail and the other two cackle about something else and point to the big projection screens at the top of the wall.
“What is that that they’re playing up there?” I ask Hillary, hoping she can break it down without sounding like it’s an opportunity to win a million-dollar lottery. Abigail’s been great—really. I’ve been included and the time has passed exponentially faster than it would have if I’d been left to fester in my own thoughts, but the delight she holds in every fiber of her being over this whole charade is starting to wear on me.
“Oh. I think one of the other girls said it’s a slideshow from some of the past bonding nights or something. I guess it’s supposed to get us excited about meeting our own vampire.” Her voice doesn’t hold quite as much disdain as my own, but it’s not euphoric either.