Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“Not interested,” he says. “I think I’ll take your mouth, instead.”
“My what?” I ask in a haughty tone. “I’m not giving you oral.”
He barks out a laugh. “Not what I meant.”
“Oh.”
“As if I would let your teeth anywhere near my dick without being first assured of your affections.”
I laugh.
Then, without further ado, he kisses me.
I am too startled to react at first. But he doesn’t hesitate. His mouth covers mine and his tongue slips inside, and huh. He really knows how to kiss. He traces my teeth and tongue, being gentle and demanding in turns. In no time at all, he seduces a reaction out of me, feeding me kisses deep and wet. The man goes straight to my head. No one has ever put this sort of single-minded determination into reducing me to a pile of mush. His body weighing me down and the firm grip he has on my wrists are my undoing.
It is heavenly having him this close. I can admit as much in the privacy of my own head. He kisses me deep and strong and true. Like nothing else matters. Like he’s been saving this up for nights. Which makes no sense. He’s rich and hot and immortal and could have anyone. While my standout attribute is my inability to keep my mouth shut and stop giving him shit.
And none of this explains why my legs are wrapped around his hips, holding him to me.
“I don’t remember my training sessions with Father being quite so handsy,” says Henry over by the door.
Lucas groans and raises his head. The way his nostrils flare at the intruders is pure pissed-off animal. It’s kind of thrilling.
“We shouldn’t judge,” says another male with a curious accent. Nordic, at a guess. He’d make a great Thor. All tall and built with long blond hair and tattoos. “Maybe he’s starting by teaching her wrestling. On a bed. With his tongue.”
“Where the fuck have you been, Benedict?” asks Lucas.
“Here and there.”
“You were supposed to be watching my back.”
“I had other duties to attend to.”
“What about me?” cries Henry. “I have valiantly watched over you for seventy fucking years. Where is the thanks!”
“I’m sure you did the best you could,” says the large stranger. “Even though you somehow weren’t there when Father woke. I am sure whatever you were doing was very important. There, there, little brother.”
“You’re the worst, Benedict. The absolute fucking worst.”
Benedict gives us a nod. “Feel free to return to your training. We did not mean to interrupt.”
“Of course, you realize he’s not really going to train her. Not anytime soon, at any rate,” says Henry.
“Why not?”
“He likes her soft. It’s part of what makes her an anomaly in his world.” Henry leans against the doorframe. “For example, she sleeps in his bed. Has done that ever since he turned her.”
“You’re kidding me?”
Lucas grunts but says nothing. And he stays put on top of me. Awkward as heck.
“When Father turned me, he threw me into his dungeon for weeks, leaving jugs of blood at the door once a night,” says Henry. “Wouldn’t let me out until I promised not to bite the staff or break any of his precious furniture.”
“He chained me to a tree,” says Benedict.
Henry’s brows reach for the sky. “He chained you to a tree? Are you serious? How have I never heard about this?”
“You talk so much, I hardly ever get a word in.” Benedict shrugs. “It was this big old oak. A very nice tree, but still…I had to burrow in the ground each day to stay out of the sun.”
“You chained him to a tree?” I ask in amazement.
“It’s a long story.” Lucas finally climbs off me and offers his hand. “He kept trying to kill me.”
Benedict nods. “I did, that’s true. Our king tasked me with cutting off the evil creature’s head. But Lucas liked how I fought and turned me.”
“The Middle Ages were rough. I thought a Viking berserker might come in handy.”
I blink. “Huh.”
“What did you do for food when you were chained to this tree?” asks Henry.
“Before dawn each day, he would stand at a distance and throw rabbits at me,” says Benedict in the same stoic tone.
Henry cocks his head. “What? Live ones?”
“No,” says Lucas. “That would be cruel. I’d already wrung their necks.”
“Let me just say again how sorry I am that we interrupted your training session,” says the big dude with his bass voice. “Would you like us to go away until you’re finished?”
“Shut up, Benedict,” says Lucas. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too, old man.”
This vampire must be almost seven-foot tall. He is huge.
“And this must be my new sister Skye, whom I have heard so much about.”
The word that enters my head when Benedict turns my way is curious. But it’s surrounded in a warm glow of a feeling. Like he’s happy to be here. Guess Lucas was right about my gift and its ability to grow. Seeing the feeling associated with the word could be very helpful.