Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“I need you to tell me everything. What happens at these balls? What’s it like?”
“I don’t know. This is the first one in many centuries.”
I swallow hard. “So this isn’t a yearly sort of thing?”
She meets my gaze in the mirror, then returns to her work. “No. High Lord Dragonis has never been much for parties, especially when bringing all his enemies together under one roof could lead to an attempt—or multiple attempts—on his line.”
“So why the change—oh, shit. Because of Theo?”
She nods. “That and the open war with humans. Plenty of vampires prophesied we’d eventually be forced to wipe most of them out and keep the rest as cattl—” She stops herself. “As a food source.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That doesn’t really make it sound any better.”
“Sorry.” She digs around in her bag and pulls out some absolutely ancient-looking hairspray.
“Is that safe?” I ask. “Will it destroy the ozone layer all over again?”
She glances at the bottle. “No telling.” When she sprays it, I hold my breath, but it doesn’t keep the noxious odor from invading. “It works!” She curls one lock of hair, then another. I suspect hair professionals would decry the damage, but I don’t see a salon anywhere nearby, so I let it go. It’s not like it matters. At least I’m going to my possible death with pretty hair.
“So we’re both going to a mystery ball.” I grab a powder puff and wave it around a little, sending a little plume of white into the air. “Do you think there will be a mystery prince?”
“Only Valen.”
I roll my eyes and take another drink of the green liquid. “He’s not a prince.”
“Not yet.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that his human ancestry has prevented him from being fully heir to Gregor’s kingdom, but now …”
“Now that Theo’s dead, Valen’s all Gregor has left?” I fill in.
“It’s not quite that simple. Theo’s death has changed everything, Gregor most especially. He’s become …” She presses her lips into a fine line.
“Whitbine.” I tap my nose. “Can’t be saying anything about the boss man that could make its way back to him, right?”
She doesn’t respond, but her expression is a plain ‘yes.’
“Fuck you Whitbine, you sack of donkey shit!” I raise my glass in mock toast. “I hope you meet the sun before I meet my maker.”
“Maybe slow down a little.” Melody finishes curling my hair, then runs her fingers through it, separating the tight ringlets into flowing waves.
“My hair has never—and I mean never—looked this good.”
She smiles, and for the first time, I swear I could see her blush. “I’m glad you approve.”
I finish the glass and hold it up. “More?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She takes the glass and digs around in her overnight case.
I hiccup then giggle. “Definitely not a good idea,” she mutters.
“This is bad.” I pace the floor beside my bed, terror slowly creeping up my spine, slowed only by the green liquid. My aches from the nightmare have lessened, another gift of the green mystery drink. Despite its haze, my thoughts are spiraling, full of questions and futile thoughts of escape. Some way out of the ball, some way to avoid Gregor. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I don’t know how bad it’s going to get. Despite Melody’s reassurances, every doubt has managed to creep into my mind.
Why couldn’t I have escaped? Why? Valen is toying with me, that’s why. Did he know I was going to try the elevator? He must have. That’s why he left it open. So he could taunt me with the illusion of freedom. He took all my knives, all my options, and I bet he laughed while he did it. I hate him so much it threatens to make me physically ill.
“Fuck.” I almost turn my ankle, my body totally unused to the heels I’m wearing. This is a farce, a horrible farce. Me in this dress, me being forced to go to a damn party when I’m nothing but a prisoner.
“Gregor went to great expense to have these floors put in.” Valen’s voice startles the hell out of me. “The wood was sourced from a single forest in Romania, renowned for its dark wood that many believed sprouted on the field of an ancient battle, their roots fed with heartsblood.”
My hand to my chest, my heart on a rampage, I glare at him. In a sharply cut black tux with crimson accents, he looks every inch the villain. He should dress like this more often, the outside matching the inside.
“It would be a shame for you to cut a trench through the boards with your incessant pacing.” He looks down at me, his gaze sweeping to the floor and then back to my face in a slow, meticulous assessment. “Blood Dragonis colors suit you.”