Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
I swallow and glance back at the cutting board.
You’re romanticizing this, I argue with myself. This is a cabin in the middle of nowhere with three blue-collar vampire men who apparently kidnap women in their free time.
This is not supposed to be my destiny.
My destiny is New York. My destiny is the blood of the three. My destiny might’ve been Damien Snow.
My mom’s voice is in my head, telling me how important the bonding night is and how lucky I am and how special I am because of my bloodline. Being chosen is an honor, she’s said more times than I can count. Being chosen is your purpose.
But then Kane’s voice is in my ear, Because you’re not just something to me, Blair. You’re fucking everything. And I don’t want to own you. I just want you to want to be mine.
My hand tightens around the knife, and my mind churns and burns with what has to be the equivalent of an existential crisis. My parents wouldn’t raise me my entire life for something monstrous…would they?
No. Absolutely not. There’s no way they would do that.
Instead of getting lost inside the minefield that is my own head, I focus on the rhythm of the room instead. There’s no tension here. No one evaluating me or measuring my posture or tone. That absence feels strange. But more than that, it feels right.
I glance at Kane again when he isn’t looking.
He’s talking to Calloway about something mundane. Supply runs. Gas mileage. Repairs. His jaw is strong. His expression focused. There’s no calculation in his eyes. No hunger.
When he looks at me, it’s not like how Damien did at the mixer.
Damien’s gaze lingered too long. It was clinical and assessing, and I didn’t feel it in the pool of my belly.
But Kane’s—
I look away before I finish that thought.
You’re rewriting things. I try to bring myself back to reality. This is what people do when they’re disoriented. You imprint on the nearest constant. It doesn’t mean he’s right. It doesn’t mean your entire life has been a lie. It just means you’re adapting.
“I’m just adapting,” I murmur under my breath.
“What?” Kane asks from across the room.
“Nothing.”
He watches me for a second longer than necessary.
And there it is again. That quiet steadiness.
I feel safest when he’s near.
The realization is like stepping on glass, and I don’t even know if it’s true.
But you do know. You can feel it. You’re drawn to him. And deep down, you believe him.
A sigh escapes my lungs. God, this is all so confusing.
But when I glance up and catch Kane watching me again, something inside me softens despite everything. He doesn’t look victorious or possessive. He looks present, and those green eyes may as well be warmth personified.
He smiles, and I…smile back. And for one long second, I wonder what it would feel like to stop fighting whatever it is I feel whenever I’m around him.
God, I just need clarity.
I need to understand what is real and what isn’t real.
I just need…answers.
Kane
Blair’s first full day of not being locked in my bedroom has gone smooth for the most part. She ate breakfast, helped Kylie make soup, and even ate said soup for dinner with Kylie.
Now, night is upon us, and the clouds rumble with a thunderstorm that’s been threatening for the past hour.
Blair stands at the edge of the clearing with her arms folded tight across her chest. The wind lifts her hair and drops it again. The cabin light spills behind us in a soft rectangle, warm against the dark forest.
She hasn’t looked at me once since we stepped outside, but after a long moment of silence, she turns to face me. Her expression isn’t angry, but it’s not exactly neutral either.
“Why did you kidnap me?” she asks. “I want to know the truth, Kane.”
She is hanging by an emotional thread at the moment, and I know I have to choose my words carefully. I know that the truth of the situation—our reality—contradicts everything she’s ever been told. If I have to keep answering the same questions over and over to help her believe, I’ll do it.
“I have been telling you the truth. They were going to take you,” I say finally. “New York wasn’t what you thought it was.”
“How in the hell could they take me if I was going willingly?” she retorts. “I packed my own bags, for fuck’s sake.”
“No,” I say calmly. “You thought you were going willingly, but nothing can be willing, Blair, if all you’re being told are lies. Damien Snow isn’t who you think he is. None of the elites are. And what he invited you to is expressly forbidden by the Elite Council. If he touched you, used you, you’d have been ineligible for the auction altogether. And if he hadn’t? You’d have been sold to the next vampire who would have treated you the exact same.”