Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
She guessed she must be a good mark for a kidnapper, vampire or not. No one would look for her. She really didn’t have anyone who cared enough to look for her. And even if there had been someone who cared he’d just have hypnotized them anyway so what did it matter? All Tristan had to do was explain her absence to 2 bosses and a roommate. Yep, a perfect mark.
“I guess I’m a good mark, eh? I disappear and hardly anyone notices? You just hypnotize any doubts away?”
He snickered and sipped his coffee, “Good mark? You’re a pain in the ass, actually.”
She shifted uncomfortably and tightened the sash on the robe, “Yeah, well let me leave and that pain in your ass will stop immediately.”
She could feel his eyes burning into her and felt uncomfortable under his gaze but met his eyes, challengingly, “You’re taking this birthday gift thing a little too seriously, don’t you think?”
He burst into laughter, “Levity,” he said, “Nice.” His phone let out the iPhone tri-tone text alert. She wondered where her iPhone was. Tristan’s was the latest model and hers was a one of the early models, one she’d taken after Daisy had broken it in frustration at a boyfriend. Kyla had paid to fix it. He picked up the phone and looked at the screen. He got up and swiped it and narrowed his eyes at it.
“I’ll bring you some breakfast in a few minutes.” He walked back into the bedroom, staring at the screen and left her alone out there.
There was a lump in Kyla’s throat. She didn’t know whether to cry or scream. Anger or exasperation, probably both, were rising in her and she didn’t know what to do with it. It was like she was on the verge of imploding, finding herself in a place she never wanted to be in. Paranormal stuff aside, once again, she had no control. This reminded her of when she was a child, being shuffled around from place to place with just a few belongings in a few bags or boxes and no control over her circumstances. Someone else ruling over her, her hopes, dreams, plans of planting roots, getting a degree, buying a home, getting a dog or a cat or even a damn goldfish fading into the background. Everything she’d been working toward and /or dreaming of was rapidly evaporating.
What now? What next? Was she going to be kept like a doll in a dollhouse? A sex and blood slave in his bedroom until he got the test results back? And what would his blood tests even reveal? Would they give him the ability to mesmerise her so that she lost herself? Would the results make any difference to her future, her fate? And when he lost his taste for her, what then? Would he kill her? Or even if he didn’t intend to kill her, would he kill her out of his rage if she didn’t do what he told her to do?
She got to her feet. She had to find a way out of here. She didn’t want to wait around to find out what bizarre things would happen next. She leaned against the railing and stared off into space.
She needed to take the time to assess things before making another move. He’d threatened to physically restrain her and that wouldn’t help her escape, obviously. And she knew there were at least two other men in here. The dark haired guy she saw this morning --- he must be the ‘Sam’ Tristan had mentioned. Then there was Joe. Despite how sweet and protective Tristan sounded she had seen another side of him, too. Psycho!
She felt the nerves prickle on the back of her neck, that feeling you get when you’re being watched. She cast her eyes down toward the swimming pool and saw Joe standing there, by a door, staring up at her, arms folded across his chest, his blond hair in his eyes. He lifted his sunglasses up and pushed his bangs back with them and let them rest on his head. She swallowed hard when she saw that his dark eyes were coldly focused on her.
She gripped the railing tight, feeling very uncomfortable with the intensity of his stare. No, more of a glare. He didn’t look the same as yesterday when he’d come in to bring the walkie talkie. Now he didn’t look like the fresh-faced boy next door. He looked pissed off and he looked dangerous. He was probably furious about the vase incident and the fact that, by the sounds of it, Tristan attacked or almost attacked him. He looked like he wanted to inflict pain on her. He flashed his fangs at her. Her heart skipped a beat.
Tristan burst out onto the terrace, “What’s wrong?” he demanded.