Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Lucian strides forward, his eyes burning scarlet. He raises his right hand, and I see it—embedded in his palm, fused with his flesh is a jagged shard of obsidian glowing faintly crimson.
Pain slashes across his features as he curls his fingers around the shard. Blood drips from between his fingers to patter on the cold stone floor. His voice rumbles with authority and something darker—something ancient.
“By the Brand I bear, by the blood that cursed me—I command you—release her!”
The thing screams—the sound so piercing I think my skull will split apart! The coils writhe, loosening against my body, slick shadows dripping like melted tar.
I drag in a ragged breath and then another. Oh thank God—I can finally breathe again! But though they are looser, the coils are still wrapped around me, just waiting to squeeze again.
Lucian clearly doesn’t intend to let that happen. His jaw clenches, his fist tightening around the shard. More blood drips from his fingers and then I smell burning—his flesh and blood, seared by the power he’s manifesting.
“I am Don of the Crimson Syndicate!” he roars. “I hold your leash—back to the dark with you!”
The creature of slime and shadows shrieks one last time before exploding into a cloud of foul smoke. The stench is unbearable—rot and mildew and filth—but as it dissipates, something else fills my lungs when the huge Mafia Don Vampire bends over me.
It’s his scent—Lucian’s scent.
I expected blood—metallic and sour. I mean, what else would a vampire smell like? But instead his scent is dark and spicy, masculine and intoxicating—like leather and smoke, with a hint of cloves. It’s strong and alive and utterly different from the decay I was drowning in a moment ago.
His closeness is apparently too much for the thing gripping me to endure. The coils dissolve entirely, leaving me to collapse on the freezing stone floor. My bare skin is covered in slime—thick, black sludge that clings to my body and smells like death. I gag and press a trembling hand to my mouth. Oh, God, now I really am going to puke!
Lucian drops to one knee beside me. His suit is immaculate, cut to perfection, but he doesn’t hesitate to scoop me into his arms. He doesn’t seem to even see the slime I’m covered in.
“My lovely one…” His voice is ragged. His chest heaves as he cradles me against him. “Gods, you’re chilled to the bone.”
I’m shaking so hard I can’t speak. His heat seeps into me—he’s so big, so warm—his chest is like a furnace against my frozen skin.
“I’ll ruin your suit,” I mumble weakly, glancing at the streaks of black slime soaking into the fine wool.
“Fuck the suit,” he growls, his voice a low rumble in my ear. His arms tighten around me, both protective and possessive. “That fucking guard—I’ll have him killed for putting you in here. Slowly.”
Now that I’m safe, I feel weariness overtaking me. My eyelids flutter, fighting a losing battle to stay open. The big vampire’s scent surrounds me, heady and dark. My body—wrung out by cold and terror—finally yields.
The world fades to black and I know no more.
17
Lucian
My sweet Julia is weightless in my arms.
Not because she is light—she is lush, abundant—everything a Queen should be. No, it’s because that fucking Wraith took too much of her. She feels like she’s already halfway gone!
I grit my teeth and clutch her closer, ignoring the slime soaking through my suit jacket. Filth. It reeks of the Wraith—acrid and putrid—but I don’t give a damn. My lovely little human is cold as death against me.
Please, no…
The shard in my palm still burns. Every nerve in my arm screams from wielding the Crimson Brand to drive off the Wraith, but I shove the pain down. It’s nothing—less than nothing—as long as she’s safe.
Julia’s head lolls against my chest—her skin clammy, her lips tinged blue. The sight cuts me deeper than any blade ever could.
“Hold on, little one,” I murmur, the words half-command/half-prayer. “I spent months trying to find you—don’t you dare slip away from me now!”
My shoes strike the marble as I stride out of the dungeon corridor. I take her up the elevator and into my private hallway. When I reach my office, the guard at the door startles, then pales when he sees her limp form in my arms.
“My Lord, is she—”
“Shut the fuck up!” My voice is a growl. “You’ll speak when I ask you to—and pray I never do. For now, get out of my sight—you’re on permanent outdoor duty. I never want to see you inside the walls of the Crimson Spires again!”
He nods and flattens himself against the wall. Wise of him. If my arms weren’t full of my Curvy Queen, I would have ripped his head from his shoulders.
I jab the button for the special lift that leads up one more floor, to the penthouse where I live. The very tip-top of the Crimson Spires where only I have access. My jaw is tight, my chest aching with every beat. Julia shivers in my arms—a tiny tremor that makes me clutch her tighter.