You Are Mine (The Lycans #2) Read Online Jenika Snow

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Vampires Tags Authors: Series: The Lycans Series by Jenika Snow
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Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
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I finally reached the cellar door, one that only the staff used. But as a child, I had gone down there plenty of times, my curiosity too strong to be cured. It was then that I’d realized the estate had an underground tunnel that went the length of the property and opened up to a drainage pipe right out into the forest that lined the property.

I’d learned from my father the Lycans had used them centuries ago as escape routes when tensions had been high with warring creatures in the Otherworld and rival clans.

It hadn’t been used in probably as long as they’d been constructed, because once treaties had been signed and enemies either destroyed or made allies, there was no use for the tunnels.

Until tonight.

Gods only knew how filthy it was, but it would be the only way I could slip out without anyone catching me.

The sentries were too well trained to not pick up on my scent if I tried making an escape out one of the main back doors, so going through the tunnel was my only option.

Thankfully, all the staff had left hours before, so when I closed the cellar door behind me and took the stone steps, I felt like I could breathe easier.

The air became colder the more I descended, the dampness surrounding me telling me that this part of the estate didn’t have the modernization and insulation like the rest of our home. Aside from the massive walk-in pantry and industrial-sized freezer and refrigerator that had been installed, the cellar was like a step back in time with the thick, unforgiving stone walls.

As soon as I was at the bottom landing, I started making my way down the narrow hallway that would take me to the doorway of the tunnel. Despite being a vampire, meaning I shouldn’t be afraid of dank, damp, and dark cellars, I couldn’t lie and say this place didn’t give me the creeps. I wrapped the cardigan tighter around myself, my feet moving soundlessly over the floor.

When I finally reached the entrance to the tunnel, and after unlatching the loud, rusted metal bolt, I pulled it open and immediately smelled damp mold and dirt. I closed the door behind me and kept to the wall, the floor having puddles of water that became more apparent the closer I got to the exit.

It seemed like an eternity before I saw moonlight, but this surge of excitement and nervousness had me moving faster. The entrance of the tunnel had iron bars going vertical, and although at one point they’d probably been mystically enchanted, they were now just metal. Cold and unforgiving, hard and unmoving for anyone other than an Otherworld creature.

When I got to the bars, I could see how aged they were, parts of them being eaten away by rust so much that there was a large portion unobstructed and big enough for me to squeeze through.

The same opening that had been there since I was a child.

I got on my hands and knees and crawled through, the fresh air a welcome reprieve from the dank scent of the tunnel.

At one point the gate blocking off this opening had been so secure with magic that no creature, Otherworld or human, had been able to breach it. But in this modern day, there was no need for that. There was no need to reinforce the bars or even block off the tunnel. Our property was not only protected with the mystically enforced wall, but also guarded by the Scottish Lycan clan.

Once outside, I stood, brushed off the debris that hadn’t soaked into my pants, and didn’t hesitate to keep moving. The tunnel came out right at the edge of the forest, and I kept to the trees. I pressed my body against the thick trunk, my nails digging into the bark, another motion to keep me grounded and calm.

I breathed out and then inhaled slowly through my nose, seeing if I scented or sensed anyone. It was hard to get a grasp on where the sentries were, my senses not nearly as keen or powerful as theirs.

So I went from tree to tree, pressing my body against the trunks, keeping toward the small creek that ran parallel to the back of the estate. The moss on the rocks would help mask my scent, as well as the sound of the trickling water to hide any sounds I inadvertently made.

I just needed to get to the edge of the creek where I knew there was the overgrowth of large thorny shrubs. I used to play around them as a child, even going as far as stealing one of the garden shears from the shed and cutting away a small enough opening for me to crawl through and hide.

And once I got through that foliage tunnel, I’d just need to figure out how to scale the wall.


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