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)
Then someone walks into the frame and my stomach drops.
It’s Donald Pugh—my coworker.
The man who always “accidentally” brushes his hand against my ass whenever he walks by me…who leans in too close…who smiles too wide. The man who makes my skin crawl every time I have to pass his desk and I can feel his greedy little eyes crawling all over me.
Donald is wearing nothing but stained, tattered boxer shorts and his sparse yellowish hair is sticking up in all directions. He scratches himself absently, shuffles across the room, and flops down onto the dirty, unmade bed. He grabs a beer bottle from the nightstand, takes a long swig, and lets out a satisfied grunt as he stretches out.
It’s a disgusting look into a coworker’s private life but I don’t understand—why am I seeing this? Why did Lucian think it was important for me to see what kind of squalor Donald Pugh lives in?
I’m just opening my mouth to ask him…when suddenly, the mattress moves.
At first I think it’s my imagination.
Then black hands burst out of the bed.
Not arms—just hands—dozens of them. They erupt from the dirty gray sheets and the mattress itself, and all their fingers look too long—they seem to have extra joints in them. And all of them are tipped with long, black claws.
Donald seems to notice them almost the same time I do.
“What the fuck?” he gasps, looking around him in fear. “What—?”
But he doesn’t get to finish the thought. The shadow hands grab his wrists, his ankles, his torso. He screams, a high, panicked sound as their claws dig into his flesh.
“What—what is happening?” I whisper, my stomach twisting. “What the hell is going on?”
Lucian doesn’t answer and, in the meantime, my eyes are glued to the crystal ball and the scene it’s showing—which is right out of a horror movie.
The mattress beneath Donald turns into a yawning black void. It’s as though his own personal black hole has opened up beneath him.
He thrashes in the hands’ grip—shrieking, trying to pull free—but the hands drag him down into the hole, inch by inch. His screams turn wet and desperate—garbled pleading and shrieks of pure terror…until finally, the darkness swallows him completely.
Then there is nothing but silence.
The scene in the crystal ball goes back to normal. The mattress reforms…the sheets lie smooth and empty, as though nothing ever happened. The messy bedroom sits frozen in time, untouched.
And I just sit there staring at it. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. My whole body feels like it’s locked in ice.
“What… what just happened?” I manage to get out at last.
When he answers, Lucian’s voice is calm—too calm.
“As I said—retribution,” he replies. “I made a deal with the Don of the Necromancers—the Lord of Bones, we call him. Your troublesome coworker will not be troubling any woman ever again.”
His smile is cruel—framed by the gleam of his fangs.
Seeing that expression on his face, something in me snaps.
I shove myself off his lap, scrambling to my feet.
“Is this some kind of threat?” I demand, my voice shaking. “Is this what you’ll do to me if I don’t settle down and behave?”
Lucian looks genuinely startled.
“What? Of course not!”
“Then why show me that?” I gesture wildly at the crystal ball. “That was horrifying!”
“I’m showing you that I can protect you,” he says, frowning now. “That any enemy of yours is an enemy of mine. And that I don’t tolerate other males touching my woman.”
“I am not your woman!” I snap, panic and anger surging together. “And yes, Donald Pugh was a jerk, but he didn’t deserve to be dragged into the underworld by a hundred nightmare hands—or whatever the hell that was!”
Lucian’s expression hardens.
“I did some research,” he says quietly. “He was a rapist. He forced himself on several women in his life. Only one pressed charges—and she dropped them when he threatened her child.”
The words hit me like a blow to the stomach.
“Seriously?” I ask, but my voice comes out in a whisper. I knew Donald was a jerk, but I didn’t know he was a rapist. Though to be honest, it’s not that much of a surprise.
Lucian nods.
“If anyone deserved to spend the rest of his days being tormented in the lair of the Necros,” he says, “it was him.”
My anger falters. I bite my lower lip, my hands shaking.
“I… I didn’t know that,” I admit. “I just… that was scary. What you showed me felt more like a threat than reassurance.”
Lucian steps closer, his voice low and intent.
“My darling, I would never hurt you. You’re mine now. I’ll take care of you, always.”
I suppose the words should comfort me…but they don’t. He’s still claiming to own me, and that’s upsetting. Even more upsetting than what happened to Donald Pugh.
Lucian straightens, the Vampire Don once more, all warmth draining from his posture as if he’s pulling on armor.