Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
I hesitate for a moment. "Yes. She should be someone the hero in this game will risk everything to have."
"Transcribed, sir."
I fling myself down into my chair, grumbling under my breath. My notes won't help. They aren't nuanced enough. But then again, I can't exactly pluck her from reality and paint her into my game either, can I? There are forms to sign, contracts to fill out, and a ream of paperwork involved in a decision like that. But she is what's been missing from this blasted game.
We've been trying for months to sort out the storyline. I've made a fortune developing games that paint the monsters as the heroes, but this one…well, this one has given me nothing but trouble. Nothing felt right. After talking with Dahlia the other day, the storyline finally came to me. She's the story, or a woman like her anyway. A beauty caught between two worlds, capable of uniting them both.
It's all make-believe, of course, but if anyone could do it, Dahlia Savage could.
"Knock-knock."
"Jekyll, shut down," I growl as soon as her voice sounds at the door. Shit. How long has she been standing there? Hopefully not long enough to hear me wax poetic about a video game character who looks like her. There will be no explaining my way out of that one. Would I even try?
"You named your computer Jekyll?" she asks, her light steps tapping on the hardwood as she steps deeper into my office. "Really, Draven? Does that make you Edward Hyde?"
"That makes me Draven Woodburn," I murmur, clenching my hands as her sweet voice rolls over me. Not even the disapproval in it sours the moment. I could listen to her speak for days and never grow tired. "A monster with a wicked sense of humor."
"Wicked is right." She laughs lightly.
I close my eyes, listening to the sounds she always brings with her. The rush of breath in and out of her lungs, the gentle swish of fabric as she moves, the creak of old floorboards beneath her feet. The whole room comes alive around her in new and unexpected ways. It's an endless source of fascination to me.
"You work in the dark," she says.
"Day blind, remember?"
"Oh, I know that."
I imagine her waving a hand at me, and I smile.
"I just meant… Oh, never mind. I don't know what I meant." She steps closer.
I grit my teeth as her scent swirls through the air. One day soon—very soon—I'm going to find the source of it and lick it from her trembling body. If I'm lucky, it'll be an all-day endeavor. My tongue will grow weary long before the scent diminishes. No matter, though. I intend to give it a valiant effort regardless.
"Gretchen says you're a video game developer," Dahlia says. "How does that work, exactly?"
"You mean for a blind man?"
"No, you wicked man," she says with a laugh. "I mean, I know nothing about video games. How does one develop them?"
"With an infinite supply of patience," I mutter, only partially kidding. "Once we have the storyline hammered out, it's mostly programming and coding, along with rendering, engineering, artwork, and audio development."
"Wow," she says. "That's a lot. And you do all of this?"
"No." I smile, turning my chair slightly to face her. It's not dark enough for me to truly see her, but I can make out the shape of her leaning against the wall a few feet away. It's enough. For now. "I do the programming and coding, but I have departments that tackle everything else for me."
"What are you working on now?"
"A game."
"You aren't going to tell me?"
"I could, but then…."
"If you say you'd have to kill me, Draven Woodburn," she growls in warning.
"Never," I vow solemnly. I'd set this world on fire before harming a single hair on her head.
She falls silent, tension in the air. It crackles like electricity between us, igniting my blood. Does she feel it too? Is she thinking about our kiss in the library? Or the way she felt pressed up against my body in the bedroom? God knows I am.
"Why video games?" she asks as if grasping for something to break the charged silence between us.
"I needed something to keep me occupied."
She frowns, clearly not liking this answer.
"I was nine when I…changed," I murmur. "A scientist in town meant to mix one thing into the punch at our Halloween party, but he mixed something else instead. I was one of the youngest to change. I barely remember what it's like to be human. But I remember video games." It's odd. I know what it's like to be other and to be treated as such, but my memories of a time when I was anything else are hazy. They grow a little dimmer every year.
"Draven," she whispers, her voice soft.
"I guess we all cling to things that bring us comfort." I shrug one shoulder and then chuckle. "You might not have noticed, Beauty, but this mansion is a time capsule. Ma has a serious thing for the eighties."