Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Hmm…they do?” Luke appeared to be thinking about this.
“Yes, they do! They really do!” Mattie said earnestly. “They’re totally monogamous!”
She had her eyes trained on his face, hoping he would believe her and realize she wasn’t a “whore” when something on the door caught her attention.
She tried to look at it without turning her head, only moving her eyes. Yes—she was right, something was weird. The door latch was glowing a dull reddish orange. Almost as though something was heating it up.
Something or someone, Mattie thought, feeling hope course through her. Could it be that Grath was on the other side of that door? He was the only one she knew who might be able to do such a thing.
But would he get through in time? He could heat up his hands enough to bake cookies, but she was pretty sure he’d need a hell of a lot more heat than that to melt a solid metal door latch and lock.
Whatever happens, I can’t let him see the door, she thought, returning her gaze to Luke. Grath needs to have the element of surprise on his side when he bursts in!
“So…so your mother is the fourth, uh, art piece,” she said, pointing to draw Luke’s eyes away from the door and towards the other side of the room. “Tell me about the others. Do you remember each one?”
“Actually, I do.” Luke smiled dreamily, as though recalling a beautiful memory. “I remember each and every one. Usually I like to take my time with them—not like Amanda. She forced my hand by screaming and going crazy,” he added, frowning at the dead body on the floor.
It seemed to Mattie that Luke Hartsford the serial killer, calling someone else “crazy”, was definitely the pot calling the kettle black, as Grandma Thelma would have said. But of course she wasn’t going to say that.
“Tell me about them,” she urged, pointing to the heads on the shelf again. “Did you get all their names? Where did they come from?”
Luke frowned at her.
“Hey…I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to keep me talking so I don’t turn you into art,” he said. “But I know you’re just a dirty whore. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have come to Prom with me all those years ago and let me do whatever I wanted to you.”
“You didn’t do it and I sure as hell didn’t want it!” Mattie exclaimed. She could tell she was losing control of the narrative, but she couldn’t help it—he had struck a nerve talking about that horrible night, all those years ago.
“I couldn’t get hard for you back then like I should have—because I didn’t know that I could turn you into art afterwards,” Luke told her. “That’s why I couldn’t get it in you before those bastards knocked on our door.”
Speaking of the door, how was Grath doing with melting the lock? Mattie swept her eyes to the side, trying to see if there was any progress. The door handle had turned white-hot now, but it still wasn’t melting. What if Grath couldn’t get through in time? What was she going to do if Luke decided to turn her into “art” right away? What if—?
Suddenly the door handle fell off with a loud clang and the door banged open. Grath was standing there and his hands…
Oh my God! Mattie thought, staring at the big Hybrid. His hands are on fire!
FORTY-SIX
MATTIE
It was true, Mattie saw as she stared—red and gold flames were licking up her Protector’s arms. The fire had already burned away the sleeves of his tux, revealing his muscular biceps, but it didn’t appear to hurt him at all.
“What the hell?” Luke turned towards the door, machete in hand.
But Grath was too fast for him. He charged into the room and Mattie saw that his midnight eyes had turned as red as the flames that were climbing his arms.
“You fucker!” he growled, grabbing Luke by the throat. “How dare you try to hurt my female? I’ll fucking kill you!”
Mattie gasped and scrambled to the far side of the bed, trying to get away from the action. Luke was flailing his arms, trying to swing the machete but not having much luck. In the meantime, Grath had his flaming hands locked around the other man’s throat and he appeared to be burning him to death as much as strangling him.
She wanted not to see it, but somehow she couldn’t look away. As she watched, Luke’s blue eyes bulged from their sockets and he seemed to stop breathing. He went limp in Grath’s hands, but that didn’t stop the big Hybrid. He squeezed and squeezed until, suddenly, Luke’s head popped off and rolled across the floor—Grath had burned right through the other man’s neck. There was no blood though—just a cauterized stump of a neck that smoked as though it had just been seared on a hot pan.