Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
He never meant to hurt me before. He was always careful. But he made sure I knew how easily he could kill me if he wanted to, and this version of Lucas…he wants me to die.
“Lucas!” I protest and try to push him away. He jerks his head back, blood dripping down his face, and bites the other side of my neck. I cry out in pain and feel warm liquid dripping down my shoulder, over my chest, and splattering onto the floor. Dizziness crashes down on me, and everything fades away.
I can’t hear anything.
Can’t see anything.
I can’t even feel anything.
Then suddenly, I gasp and open my eyes.
“Morning, babe.”
Chapter
Eighteen
“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I throw the blankets back and jump out of bed. But this time, I’m not in Chicago. Whirling around, I see Easton starting to sit up, brows pushed together. I’m in my room, or what used to be my room in the old brick Italianate house.
“What, I figured it out so you think this will trick me?” I ask, shouting at the ceiling.
“What’s wrong, Cal?” Easton gets out of bed and comes over, reaching for my hand.
“Everything,” I rush out and look around the room. Things are eerily set up as they were before I met Lucas. My weapons chest is even in here, and a dresser drawer is half open, revealing a dozen or so pairs of black leggings. “Getting crafty, huh?” I mumble and grab a pair of leggings. I’m dressed in an oversized black t-shirt this time, a little better than the thin tank-top and underwear before. “I need to go to the Covenstead.”
“The what?” Easton asks, slowly shaking his head. “Are you half asleep or something?”
“I think we both are.” I open the top drawer of my dresser to grab socks but see it’s full of Easton’s clothes instead. “When did we move in together?” I ask, trying to make a point.
“A few years ago.”
“Where did you live before then?”
His face blanks for a second but then he blinks rapidly. “Chicago, with the other hunters.”
“Okay, dammit, that is true, but I didn’t. I went to Grim Gate Academy and then opened a bookstore with my best friend, Kristy Miller, and lived a rather quiet life hunting demons on the weekends for fun. Then I met my husband, Lucas King and we’ve been married since September, and I got pregnant only a few weeks after the wedding. I have a daughter named Juliet and I need to get back to her.” My voice breaks at the end and Easton stands there, looking both confused and like he wants to comfort me.
“Lucas King is a vampire living in Chicago,” he says slowly. “We’ve been watching him for a couple years now, making sure he doesn’t cause too much damage.” Easton’s brows furrow and he takes my hand. “I think he held you spellbound.”
“He can’t. Because I’m a witch.”
“No, you’re not a witch. Babe, I think you should sit down.”
“Stop calling me babe.” I jerk my hand back. “We both know I hate it because we did date, Easton. Years ago. And it ended when you stood up to your stepdad and said you wouldn’t kill me for being a witch. Think, please, please, think! You are one of the best demon hunters I’ve met and I’m, well, the head witch in charge in a sense.”
I pull on the leggings, going over everything in my mind. The first attempt at a different reality made both Easton and I totally normal, by society’s account. This time is more realistic, and I still can’t figure out where the lines are drawn.
“I died twice,” I mutter and open the little closet. It was always jammed full of just my stuff and now it’s almost impossible to get anything out of, and holy shit, there is a lot of plaid. “And each time I woke up, but each time I knew a little more.” I yank a shirt down, pick up my bra from the floor and go into the bathroom to get dressed. Getting myself killed is one hell of a backup plan, but it seems to reset things in a sense.
Raking my hands through my hair, I grab a hair tie from around the bathroom door handle and pull my hair into a messy ponytail. I can’t sense my familiars, but they have to be wondering where I am. Have several days passed in real life? My sense of time is off, and I can’t tell if yesterday really spanned over hours or if it was like how time passes in a dream.
Easton is dressed when I get back into the room, and he’s sitting on the foot of the bed looking confused. The illusion is starting to chip away and it makes me feel almost guilty in a weird sense to see him want to stay.