Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
I’m instantly freezing. But when Ryet takes my hand to help me out, all his considerable heat passes right into me.
We walk hand in hand to the doors and they open, the valets—two of them—greeting us as they hold the doors, then go outside to take care of the truck.
We don’t stop at the desk. But I watch the faces of the two women as we pass through the warm, cozy lobby where about a dozen people are sitting in large, overstuffed leather couches or lingering in front of a piano where a man in a tuxedo is playing slow, somber music. The room is dominated by the fireplace mantel—a log as massive as the ones outside holding up the portico—and the chimney made of river stones that start at the hearth and climb all the way up to the top of the cathedral ceiling.
“Don’t we have to check in?”
“Nah. I know where I’m going.”
Maybe I’m not all that worldly. I mean, I was pretty protected all growing up by a magical guild. But I’m not stupid. We don’t have to wait for the valet. Don’t have to check in. He knows where he’s going.
That can only mean one thing. He’s treating me to a spa night on the vampire’s dime. Maybe the vampire doesn’t live here, maybe he does, I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. This place is exquisite. And wasn’t that monster bragging about his pretty things?
I’m both intrigued and frightened that I have just walked into the vampire’s territory.
No. That’s not quite right, is it?
I didn’t walk in here, I was led.
I was led in here holding the hand of his hunter.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - RYET
The dream is me and him.
I lead Syrsee through the lobby, paying no attention to the two young women at the reception desk who are looking at me like they might panic. I don’t have to call ahead—although I haven’t been here in years, so maybe I should have because I don’t typically show up out of nowhere holding the hand of a human woman like I can’t wait to get her in my bed—so they don’t know what to think.
No one who works here is a vampire, of course. There is really only Paul. Lucia might drink blood, but a vampire she is not. And Josep doesn’t count for anything. But everyone here is part of the compound. They are a refined group of well-behaved halfbreeds who can be trusted to interact with the general public so Paul can make some money off his extravagant taste in mountain retreats.
We actually built this place together back in the late Seventies. The lodge was here, but it was someone’s mansion. Someone who died, or lost their fortune, or maybe they just got tired of fighting the cold, and the wind, and the snow and didn’t have the desire, or money, or vision to turn it into something like this.
But we did. Paul was excited about this renovation. I remember that. I remember thinking that was weird because it was hard to get him excited about anything at the time. This was before the little witch was born, so obviously he wasn’t obsessed with her yet. Plus, all his standby feeders were still young back then. Still pretty. He still spent time playing with them and feeding off them.
And—though I don’t like to admit this—I was here. We were together. And that, it seems, has always been his goal. To keep me near him.
Why me?
I have asked myself that question thousands of times over the decades. Why me? Of all the people on this earth, he chose me. Why?
Whenever I ask him this question, his answer is always the same. You’re so pretty, Ryet.
But he says that about everyone he likes. Because, of course, he only likes pretty things. So his answer is always meaningless.
That being said, the North Star Spa and Hot Springs is an absolutely gorgeous place. A tiny valley slotted between two nine-thousand-foot peaks that contain some of the best private black-diamond skiing in all of North America.
The main lodge sprawls up the side of the western slope and is surrounded by more than two dozen natural hot springs that we connected to private cabins. There are heated walkways that wind through a forest of hazy amber lights, little bridges that take you over flowing streams, and tiny waterfalls that never freeze no matter how cold it is outside. So there is a constant burble of water, and a warm glow of heat, and a sense of coziness inside the resort boundaries that directly contradicts the harsh winter going on all around it.
People fly in from all over the world to spend time at the North Star and getting here is a bitch because roads in the Rockies make no sense. So, of course, we have a helipad too.