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)
Too cold. She’s too fucking cold!
Humans are such delicate creatures. I have to warm her up, but in order to do that, she must first be cleaned.
The Wraith’s slime clings to her skin like oil, seeping into every crease and curve of her lovely full body. If it’s not cleansed away quickly, it will linger and continue to chill her until she dies of hypothermia. She’ll fade as surely as if the Wraith still had her wrapped in its coils.
I won’t allow that.
I tilt my head, inhaling deeply, desperate for a sign she’s still herself under all that slime. And there—underneath the foul reek—is Julia. Her scent, warm, soft and alive, brings me hope. If the Wraith had succeeded in consuming her soul, her scent would be gone.
Thank all the Gods that ever were—she’s still in there, somewhere.
The elevator groans as it climbs. Every second drags like an eternity. I adjust my grip, tucking her closer, trying to shield her and warm her with my body heat. Though the Thirstborn generally have a lower body temperature than humans, my chest feels like a furnace compared to her icy skin.
I lower my lips to her temple, letting my breath warm her damp hair.
“You’re mine,” I whisper, fiercely—possessively. “And I won’t lose you. Not to a Wraith. Not to anyone.”
The bell chimes softly. The doors slide open to the private penthouse where I keep my chambers. I carry my curvy little human straight toward the suite I’d prepared, my strides long and relentless.
I need to clean her. Warm her. Strip every trace of that creature from her skin.
I only pray to the First Chalice that the Wraith didn’t drain too much of her life force—because if it did, no heat, no blood, and no power in this realm will ever make her whole again.
18
Jules
Warmth…wetness…gentle splashing…slowly these things make their way into my consciousness. I feel warm, silky water hugging every inch of me, lapping against my bare body, making me feel alive again.
I blink as I grow more alert. I open my eyes and look around…and realize I’m in a bathtub big enough to host a small yacht party. Also, the tub is filled with scented bubbles so even though I’m naked, at least I’m covered. Hooray.
The tub isn’t porcelain, it’s carved marble—dark gray with veins of wine-red, like someone took thunderclouds and froze them in stone. The rim is wide enough to sit on, the interior scalloped, and the faucets—oh my God, the faucets—are swan-neck spouts in dark gunmetal. Their beaked mouths are parted to pour water that smells faintly of something floral and sweet.
The walls of the huge bathroom I’m in are glossy black tile with inlaid silver filigree that curls into thorny roses—the light catches them and makes them glint like starlight. A chandelier of red crystal hangs from the ceiling, scattering ruby sparks through the steam rising from the bath.
Everywhere I look, there are decadent little touches—stacked fluffy towels tied with a velvet ribbon…cut-crystal apothecary jars filled with bath salts the color of crushed garnets…a tray of bath oils in crystal bottles that probably cost more than my rent.
So it’s definitely not my bathroom—it’s must be Lucian’s.
I turn my head and sure enough, there he is—the Prince of Darkness himself. Count Tall, Dark and Fangy.
Lucian has rolled his sleeves past his elbows. His suit jacket and tie lie discarded on the stone floor like he peeled off a skin he didn’t need. His shirt is crisp white linen, open at the throat. His forearms are as muscular and mouthwatering as I guessed they would be.
He has a sponge in one hand and he’s moving it carefully, methodically over my shoulder, washing away…oh. That black sheen I see on my skin isn’t just dirty water. It’s slime from the creature in the dungeon. Just delightful.
“What…what are you doing?” I manage to croak. My voice sounds like I’ve been gargling broken glass—probably from all the screaming and moaning I did while that horrible thing did its best to suck me dry.
“Cleaning you of the Wraith’s residue.” His tone is even, but his jaw is tight. “If it’s left on your skin, it will continue to leech heat…and life.”
“Just great,” I say faintly. “So this is the part where I wake up, right? Because I’m about a hundred percent sure I did not schedule ‘dungeon slime facial’ on my daily self-care routine.”
“This is no dream, lovely one.” His eyes flash red but this time with actual concern—not the scary red flare I saw the last time I sassed him. “You are in the Shadow Realm, with me. I was careless, letting you go—that won’t happen again.”
“Mm-hmm.” I stare past him at the chandelier because it’s easier than looking at his perfect face. “Right. I’m in the Shadow Realm being bathed by a huge Mafia Don Vampire in his luxurious marble tub because the Wraith thing in his dungeon slimed all over me.”