Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
He glanced back, making the door slam with just a glance and then he got to Adrian, who was slightly off to the side, out of the view of the front door, but shouted, “Don’t go in there!” pointing at Sam and his guys. Kyla was in there, sitting on the sofa, staring at the empty fireplace and he didn’t want anyone near her. He’d told her to stay when Sam had knocked on the door.
It was dusk and it’d been a long day. A long day of nothing but agony. Until now. Now the other emotions were beginning to surpass the agony. The day had dragged. Watching her eat food he’d prepared for her, watching her stare off into space in what could only be described as a catatonic state. He was watching her while wallowing, while drinking Jack, while hating himself.
Adrian was standing on just the other side of the thigh-height stone fence that surrounded the cottage, eyes filled with fear and beyond wearing that fear, he was exuding it; Tristan could smell it.
He moved toward him, with purpose, with his fists clenched, radiating rage. He was about to reach to grip Adrian’s throat but just as he reached, Adrian held up a dagger but in a surrender-like stance. Tristan felt the guy’s fear as clear as the way he used to feel Kyla.
“Don’t make me use this. I just want to talk to you. Tristan,” he gulped, “I just want to help.”
Tristan felt his guys move in to flank him and he stopped an inch away from the vamp’s face. A growl rumbled up from his gut.
“I just want to help.” Adrian repeated. He looked petrified, despite having a dagger in his hand.
“Like you’ve done so far?”
“I know,” Adrian said, looking visibly shaken, looking upset, “I know. Please. Sam’s said she’s not vampire but she’s not the same. Let’s go inside. Let me examine her. Tell me---”
“You don’t fucking breathe her air you motherfucking liar!” he clipped, “You. Dead vamp walking. And you!” He looked to Sam, “You’re done sharing information about me and Kyla. Understand?”
Sam gave a nod and then looked at his feet.
“Tristan?” A disapproving female voice cut in.
Tristan’s neck jerked to the side as he saw his mother, her dark hair loose, dressed in a long black coat. She quickly moved in from another direction. She looked ghostly pale, though. She looked upset. She put her hand on his forearm.
He shrugged her off, “Get the fuck away from me,” he snapped.
“Darling, please. Let Adrian help you. We need to talk. Let’s all sit so you can---”
“Not now,” Tristan stalked back toward the door, snarling, “Not at all. I’ll consider talking to you tomorrow, Constantin; I may also eat your heart. Could go either way.”
“Tristan, I think that we should ---” That was his fucking mother again. He was done.
“Taryn, fuck off. I don’t want to see you. At all. Go home. I fuckin’ mean it. Go. The fuck. Home.”
He slammed the door and threw the lock across.
Kyla was on the sofa, still staring at the fireplace, although there was no fire burning.
Seeing her there like that made his gut ache, his chest burn. He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of her and stared at her. She didn’t even acknowledge his presence.
He swallowed what felt like a mouthful of dust.
He closed his eyes and absorbed the pain that surrounded him. It was inside his gut, his throat, his veins, his lungs, and in the air around him. He needed to feel her, ached for it. He put his head on her lap, his lips to the top of her hand, which was resting on her thigh. Her hand twitched but other than that there was no reaction.
This feeling of disconnection from her was so fucking painful, more acute than pain from any physical blow he’d ever withstood.
Hairs rose on the back of his neck. He felt like he was being watched. He looked toward the door and saw a form at the long rectangular stained glass pane that was adjacent to the front door. His eyes narrowed to a glare and the glass shattered and blew out at the figure. He heard a feminine yelp.
Taryn.
Fuck her.
A fist was pounding on the door. He willed it to swing open, standing protectively in front of Kyla, fangs out, eyes black and menacing, and saw that Jeff and Adrian were helping Taryn down the pathway back toward the main building. Sam and Leonard were at the door.
“Uh, Tris…” Sam started.
“Get that boarded. Immediately,” Tristan told him.
Sam nodded on a hard swallow and left.
“Up to bed, Kyla. Close the bedroom door behind you,” he said and she blinked a few times, then got up and moved up the stairs. He stood, watching the back of her and when he heard the bedroom door close, he thrust his hands through his hair, then walked to the kitchen and took another swig of the nearly-empty bottle of Jack that sat there. He lifted it, turned and carried it up the stairs to the bedroom. He stood over the bed. She was lying there, looking at the ceiling.