Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“No, I’m starving.”
“Okay.” He nods and we both fall silent for a few moments. I pull my hand out from under his and smooth my hair back while mentally telling myself I need to channel my inner demon-hunter assassin, keeping my cool and not letting emotions get the best of me. Because as much as Xavier is treating me like an equal right now, there’s no way he sees me as such.
We get to the restaurant, have the car valet parked, and get escorted to our table right away. People stare as we walk in, but it’s not because they know Xavier is a vampire. Even after we’re seated, there’s no way of knowing. He orders an expensive bottle of wine and a glass is poured for him. He doesn’t correct the sommelier, but instead leaves it in front of him, appearing human.
“I’ve lived in this area my whole life but have only been to Charlotte a handful of times,” I say, taking a sip of wine. “How did you end up here? The area doesn’t exactly scream—” I lean in—“vampire mobsters.”
His lips twitch up into a smile. “Is that what the rumor is?”
“It’s not wrong.”
“No, it’s not.” His fingertips touch the stem of the wineglass. “We’ve been here for only a few decades, pursuing a business opportunity.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not going to give me much, are you?”
He cocks one eyebrow and looks at me for several seconds before smirking. “I can give you more than you can handle.”
“Ew,” I say and try to act offended. But there’s a playfulness about him and I hate how much we click. We’re married, but this is like the world’s weirdest first date yet there isn’t any awkwardness between us…even though he knows I could shove a stake through his heart and I know he could rip out my throat without warning.
“This was the first area we settled in when we first came to America.”
“We meaning you, Theo, and Ezekiel?”
“Yes. We arrived here not long after the war ended and humans have no idea how much vampires shaped this city.”
“Which war?”
“Revolutionary. In the late 1700s.”
“I know,” I quickly say, though I have no idea the exact dates of said war. “And you’ve been here ever since?”
“No. We spent a century or so building the vampire community and then went back to Europe for a decade or so and came back.”
“To the East Coast?”
“Yes,” he says, looking a bit surprised.
“That’s where you guys met, or uh, acquired maybe is the better word, Mabel.”
“Correct. Her family resided in New York City.”
I slowly shake my head. “Demon hunting in NYC is no joke.”
His eyes narrow, but it’s out of curiosity. “You weren’t born to be a hunter.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He holds my gaze and is about to say something when the waiter comes to our table. I order an appetizer, a salad, and a vegetable risotto that the chef is going to customize for me.
The food comes rather quickly and Xavier and I make small talk throughout the rest of dinner. Usually I hate the whole getting-to-know-you kind of chatter, but he is rather fascinating and I have so many questions about life in the 1400s.
We meet the photographer at the park after dinner. He touches up my makeup and gets right to work, telling us how to pose. I expect it to feel awkward and forced, but when Xavier puts his hand on my waist, something goes through me.
“Am I the first witch you’ve married?” I ask, causing him to smirk.
“You are the only human I’ve ever married,” he replies, and tucks my hair behind my ear. The camera clicks as the photographer walks around us, snapping pictures.
“Should I feel special?”
“Yes, but not because I married you. That was out of convenience. You should feel special because you are.”
Inhaling, I just hold his gaze, letting his words sink in.
“You are a witch, raised by demon hunters,” he continues, speaking softly so we’re not overheard. Unlike vampires, witches, shifters, and demon hunters don’t want to be known by the general public. “Yet there is a softness to you. I see the way you look at things. You haven’t let the Order turn you bitter. You want to believe there are good people in this world.”
“There are good people. And bad. But we can be good,” I say, trying to convince myself that I am good.
“Are you sure about that?” he asks as the wind blows. I instinctively step closer to him and his arms clasp around me.
“Yes. And we can all be redeemed.”
“Some of us…” He looks away. “Some of us may have gone too far.”
“No. I don’t believe that. Even you can be redeemed.”
“I’m no good,” he says quietly, deep voice rattling right through me. “I’ve done a lot of bad things and I don’t regret it.”