Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
"Go."
The preters had enough presence of mind to remember to bow before taking their leave, but the humans, whose minds were already warped with fear, could only scurry away like frightened mice.
Michalis shifted as soon as the door closed behind the last of his executives, silver fur coating sinewy muscles, and his beastly senses unleashed in but a fraction of a second.
Lightning wasn't always a discharge of electricity. Sometimes, it was simply divine, like this one was, and Michalis wasted no time as he loped out of the balcony and began clawing his way to the top.
The Nox was equipped with its own transmission tower, and its peak offered the tallest vantage point of the city. Michalis waited tensely as he reached the top, and when lightning struck again, he was finally able to pinpoint the anomaly being augured.
A pulse.
Neither human nor preter. But patently different. Unfamiliar even. And therefore, potentially dangerous.
That beating pulse could be a threat to his city.
And it was coming closer and closer.
Kindred sensed the change in his mood, but none of them stirred from their dens. Did this mean that they were unable to sense it? Or perhaps they were aware it was coming, but did not perceive it as a threat?
Whatever that beating pulse was, it was moving at a steady and unhurried pace, almost as if it were provoking him, and a growl ripped out of Michalis' throat when it actually had the gall to enter his domain.
He placed a call to his head of security and asked tersely if their scans had picked up anything.
"Óchi, kýrios." No, master.
"And our preter patrols?"
"No alerts," Spiros reported, "and all of their trackers show up as active in their assigned routes."
What the hell?
He was clearly the only one able to sense it, but even with it already inside the fucking Nox—-
This was the first time in his entire life that Michalis was unable to tell whether the other entity was friend or foe.
RICHARD WAGNER'S Ride of the Valkyries is playing in the background as I tap my employee ID on the turnstile's scanner, and I do my best to wheeze for breath silently as I push past its metal arms.
My fellow homo sapiens are so much more judgey than preters, and while I didn't know this when I was in my twenties, the way some humans see you apparently changes the moment your age exceeds the number of days in one calendar month.
Those people always have this oh-no look on their faces whenever they see me catching my breath. I don't even want to think of what they'd say if they ever find out I've never owned a Fitbit...or that I have the most embarrassing motive for taking a fake call every morning in the lobby.
My official reason for wanting to work in the Nox is because That Day made me realize my skills are a better fit in a preternatural setting. My unofficial and real reason for coming here, though?
It's all because of this article that described the Nox as having the highest concentration of preters aged 30-45 per square foot, and stats like that are a game changer for semi-wallflowers like me.
I'm neither shy nor awkward around men, but the one thing I'm grossly incapable of even at gunpoint is to make the first move.
Pathetic, I know, but that's just how it is, and that's why all I'm able to do is fake taking a call every morning in the lobby. It's my alibi for hanging around, since the more preters I cross paths with, the more chances I have of finding my fated mate.
A girl can always dream, even in her thirties, is what I always like to think.
But...since I'm also running a little late today, three minutes are all I can spare for my dreams of true love and happy-ever-afters, and then it's back to the daily grind.
As with most larger-than-large corporate spaces, your place in the social hierarchy is determined by which floor you get off...but since my department is just in 2/F, I don't even have an excuse to use the elevator, and I spy the usual faces turning their noses up when they see me heading for the stairwell.
Hmph!
It's moments like this I'm so incredibly tempted to let everyone know I've turned down the company's offer to have an office at 60/F.
"Wait up," a familiar voice calls out from behind, and I hold the door open until a pretty blonde with a messy-looking bun and the cutest toddler in her arms comes rushing in.
I squeal in delight as Toni's two-year-old son gives me a smile that shows off the adorable gap between his teeth. "Hello there, handsome."
"Hello, Godmother Geek." Colin beams at me as he says this, and I return his smile before glowering at his evil mom over his head. "You're such a bad influence on him!"