Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Yikes.
If so, no wonder he had qualms about turning her. And it wasn’t like Kyla wanted to be a vampire and drink blood to survive and it also wasn’t like Kyla felt like, at this juncture of her life, that she was ready to be a mother or especially ready to count down nine months until death, either, but she’d been grasping for solutions to their problems, looking for a way out, a way out that didn’t include her and Tristan being apart.
Clearly Tristan’s mother was a powerful she-vamp. What about his father? Vampire royalty, too, reportedly, but Tristan hadn’t said a word about his father.
“I smell smoke,” she heard Tristan sleepily say.
She sat up fast, “Oh no!” She inhaled the air but couldn’t smell anything.
He’d been asleep beside her and was now pulling her close, “No, silly girl, those wheels are turning mighty fast.” He poked at her temple.
She snickered, “Oh. Yeah, they’re going at about a million RPM. Definitely smoking.”
He ran his nose along her throat, kissed her on the jaw, and then released her and got out of bed.
“Getting a shower and then moving you. I feel that peak comin’, princess, and it’s coming on strong. I’m putting you in a cottage, there are several on the grounds, and I’m putting you behind a locked door the rest of the day. I wish I had someone I could trust here. I’d put Adrian’s dagger in my gut until this was over.”
“Maybe we should go home. Fly home. Get me in the panic room for a day or two, then come back?”
“I considered that. But more movement equals exposure to Liam. We’d probably be better to stay put. I don’t want to leave here without a dagger. Let’s head down. I know it’s early but I want us out of this building. Earlier means less chance of traffic in those common areas.”
He took a shower and Kyla purposely waited until he was done to get hers and when she was out of the bathroom, Tristan had their bags in hand and motioned for the door.
“I need coffee,” she gave him a pout.
“Five minutes,” he said, jaw tight, seeming impatient, “Game face on.”
She straightened her posture, put her sunglasses on, and followed him out.
~~~
Adrian and several guards showed them to a cottage on the edge of woods that were on the property. She was surprised at how woodsy it was, considering they were in a state that she thought would be mostly desert. It was a pretty stone house that looked like it was on the set of a fairy tale or a Lord of the Rings movie and there were mountains lining the horizon off in the distance. It was romantic. There were pretty gardens planted around winding stone walkways and a rounded wooden door. Inside the front door was a big but cozy room with heavy-looking old furniture and a huge fireplace that separated the living area and kitchen. The kitchen had a door that opened to a back patio area.
At the back of the house was a dining room, large office, and a bathroom. Upstairs were two bedrooms and another bathroom and the long upstairs hallway overlooked the main living area with a heavy wooden banister. The place was filled with well-loved rustic antique furniture and Kyla hated to admit it but she absolutely loved the place. It had character. It’d be a great place for a getaway… if they weren’t in the predicament they were in.
Tristan said the plan was for Kyla to spend the day in the bedroom, for Tristan to spend his time downstairs. Separated, but still in the same building, as he didn’t trust anyone with her. He said Adrian had offered to put her on guard there while Tristan stayed back at the main house but he had zero plans to go along with that idea. He didn’t trust Adrian at all, it seemed.
After they were alone in the cottage, breakfast had just been delivered, she tried to talk to him. He was in a supremely shitty mood.
“This omelette sucks,” she grumbled.
“It’s alright,” he shrugged, taking another bite.
“You make much better omelettes,” she said.
In truth, it was fine but it was nothing like the one he’d made back at his Tuscan villa, shirtless and singing Led Zeppelin in his jean shorts.
Here he was in a suit, looking handsome, but looking angry. And they had a battle in front of them. A big one.
He gave her a half-hearted smile but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Talk to me,” she said.
“It’s gonna be a rough few days,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m just getting my head ready for it. As soon as you’re done there, we need to separate. I can’t take it.”
She reached across the table for his hand. He squeezed it briefly and then let go and snatched his hand back, “I can’t even touch you.”