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 could totally see how easy it would be to let herself get swept away by this dashing and powerful man here in this beautiful mansion. But this was all so…so wrong. And he wasn’t always gentle. Then, of course, there was the whole blood-sucking thing. He was controlling and psychotic and had just claimed her as his or something messed up like that. It was too much for her to comprehend. She wanted off this merry-go-round --- stat!
“Come,” he said. He put his arm around her and guided her back inside.
When she entered the room and Tristan closed the door her eyes landed on the stack of boxes. Behind them were also 2 large industrial sized trash bags.
Clothes? Underwear? A ponytail holder? A freaking bra, please! She hoped.
“Go ahead,” he said, pointing to the boxes. He walked over and picked up a box and then slid open a pocket door to a walk-in closet that she hadn’t noticed earlier. He flicked a light switch inside the door and carried the stack of boxes in. She stepped in behind him.
The closet, if you could call it that, was huge. Bigger than her bedroom at home. This room had racks, shelves, and drawers around the perimeter. It was filled with his clothes and more pairs of shoes than even the average fashion-conscious woman owned. In the centre sat a dressing table and dressing room mirror. The closet must’ve been designed for a woman.
“I’ll make room in here for your things.”
“Why would I keep my things in here?” she scowled.
“Where else would you put them?”
“If I were a guest in your home, some of my things, but not all of them, would be in a guest room. But then again, I’d have brought them here voluntarily if I were a guest, wouldn’t I? I’d be allowed to leave if I were a guest, wouldn’t I?”
He rolled his eyes and yawned.
“Oh, I’m boring you? Really? You think I’m just going to unpack and move in here like I’m your…your…”
He cut her off, “You’re here for now so get used to it. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering some more things for you to make you more comfortable.”
She tried to ignore the edge, the intensity in his voice, like he was daring her to do something about it, “I’ll go next door, back to the other bedroom, then. That would make me slightly more comfortable.”
“I don’t think so.”
She pursed her lips and glared at him. He piled the boxes in. Kyla unfolded the lid on the box on the top of the pile. It contained papers and books. She shifted the heavy box onto the floor and peered in the next box, then opened the trash bag. Clothes! She looked expectantly at him. He got the message and backed out of the room and slid the door closed behind himself.
Kyla found a pair of jean shorts, underwear, a bra (hallelujah!), and a black t-shirt with shoulder cut-outs. She found her hairbrush and a ponytail holder and a bottle of hair detangler. She quickly got dressed, thankful to finally have something to wear, especially a bra and underwear, and to be able to better deal with her mop of a head of hair.
It was so odd to have her shabby belongings here in these lavish surroundings. She felt way underdressed, of course. But then again she’d been grossly underdressed before, too. She fingered the silky red robe and then lifted it and hung it on an empty hook on the wall beside the brown one she’d worn yesterday.
His and hers? No! No way!
How presumptuous of him to not only pick up her belongings but to put her robe on the end of his bed, like it belonged there. She huffed and snatched it off the hook and then dropped it back onto a box.
She wasn’t going to just glide into a role as someone sharing his room, his bed, like she was his mistress or significant other or something. She was sure she wasn’t significant in his world, being that she was below his food chain link and all. She was a person and he was a vampire, vampire royalty, whatever that meant. She was a prisoner, a blood mystery, not his new girlfriend. This was all too much. She sat down at the dressing table and stared at her reflection. Way too much. Nope, no way was she was unpacking. She spritzed her hair and started loosening the knots with her fingers.
She was just an ordinary girl in her mid-20’s. She didn’t think she was beautiful or extraordinary. She was slim with a fit and toned build because she was a runner and because she was so busy trying to survive that she didn’t stop long enough to get the opportunity too often to stuff her face with her favourite foods --- she’d love it if she could stuff her face with dessert on a daily basis --- and that she couldn’t was probably why she was so trim.