Total pages in book: 230
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
Hell.
Oh hell.
The Prince might not recognize who I was, but he knew I wasn’t entranced. Fight or flight response kicked in, overriding the confusing heat pumping through my body.
Two years ago, I would’ve chosen flight. That was all I’d been capable of. Not anymore. A whole different instinct took over, a newly developed one. I had no idea why the Prince was here, in the pit of his enemies, and I wasn’t willing to risk finding out or being caught by him.
Spinning around, I gripped his forearm as I ducked and twisted, slipping free of his grip. I saw the flicker of surprise on his face and then I spun back toward him. Still holding onto his arm, I used his weight as an anchor as I leaned back. Planting my left leg back, I lifted my right and slammed my knee into his midsection.
The Prince grunted as he let go, but he did not move even an inch. That kind of kick would’ve brought a human down. Probably would’ve even knocked a normal fae back several steps, but not an Ancient. He lifted his chin, eyes narrowed with annoyance.
“That was unnecessarily violent,” he said, straightening to his full height.
He hadn’t seen unnecessarily violent yet.
I spun, picking up the chair. It was surprisingly heavy. Grunting, I swung it around, prepared to at least knock him once upside the head. Wouldn’t kill him, but would definitely give me a chance to escape without having to answer questions.
The Prince’s speed was mind-numbingly fast.
I didn’t even see him lift a hand. He just suddenly had ahold of the leg of the chair. He wrenched it from my grip, tossing it aside. The chair hit the wall with a bang, shattering into three large pieces.
Damn.
He tilted his head, lips pressed into a hard, flat line. “I’m going to chalk that up to one bad life choice fueled by fear and a little bit of stupidity, and logically reason that you’re—”
Spinning into him, I swung my arm out. He dipped to the left, causing my elbow to glance off his chest. Cursing under his breath, he shot toward me. Before I could even take a breath, he had both hands on my shoulders. My back hit the wall, and then he was there, his large body crowding mine in. Panic began to blossom, but I fought it down. I started to raise my leg, aiming for where it counted, but he pressed his hips in, trapping a large thigh between mine.
“Foolish. So very foolish,” he said. “Also kind of hot.”
Wait. What?
“But that’s neither here nor there.” He wrapped his hand around my chin, forcing my head back against the wall. His gaze snagged mine. “Are you out of your mind? Do you know how easy it would be for me to kill you? Do you?”
Heart thundering in my chest, I kept my mouth shut as I glared back at him.
“Do you?” he repeated, his eyes churning with anger and… and something… something else. “Answer me.”
“Yes,” I spat out.
“And you still tried to attack me?” His thumb sliced over my chin. “When I made no move to harm you.”
I wouldn’t exactly say he made no move. He had grabbed me. That I didn’t appreciate.
“I think I can guess what happened to Tobias.”
My jaw ached from how tight I was clamping it shut.
Fury poured off him, but when those heavy lashes lowered, I swore his gaze had zeroed in on my mouth. He cursed again, and then suddenly released me. I wasn’t expecting him to do it. Off balance, I stumbled forward. He caught my arm, straightening me, and then dropped his hold as if my skin burned him.
“Go,” he growled out. “Go before I do something we both will end up regretting.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
Backing away from the Prince, I spun on the sharp heel of my boot and then I ran.
CHAPTER 5
The beautiful antebellum style home I grew up in sat nestled in the middle of the Garden District. With its wraparound porch, second-floor balcony, and the courtyard Mom and I had spent many sunny afternoons in, it was one of the houses that was an utter blast from the past—with the exception of the kitchen and bathrooms that had been renovated about five years ago.
There were days when I thought about selling it and moving on to anywhere but here even though I had been born in this home and New Orleans was a part of my blood just as much as the Order was. If I did decide to sell, I knew this home wouldn’t last a second on the market, but I couldn’t bring myself to let go of it. At least not yet, when I could still recall all those good memories.
But on nights like tonight, when I was rattled and exhausted as I unlocked the door my mom had decided to paint blue, I was swamped with the bad memories.