Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“A wooden stake through the heart would actually just temporarily paralyze a true soulless.”
“Since when?!”
“Since always.”
“I thought-”
“Sleeper lore is quite often frustratingly wrong.”
Yes.
Oh, not now!
“Okay. Fine. Then how do you kill a vampire?”
“Beheading.” An unbothered shrug bounces his shoulders. “That’s an effective method for killing most things.”
It’s my turn for my green gaze to exponentially widen.
“As for dealing with a dhampir—the creature still breathing underneath your desk drawers—stabbing it through the spine as opposed to the heart behaves the same way. It paralyzes him; however, depending on the particular soulless type that bore him, depends on whether that immobility is momentary or if it can become fatal.”
“How do you know when its capable of becoming fatal?”
“For me? Smell.”
What about you? How’d you know?
Teeth.
Does everything boil down to teeth with you?!
Often.
“You were saying?” Ptur slowly advances, moving the broken desk pieces out of his path. “Mr. Frankford is a Magitek operative?”
“Correct.”
“Sent here to kill me, which is why one of my loyal associates tried to kill him instead?”
“Sent here to distract you by causing the current disarray on your business front, which is why one of your loyal associates,” my face aims itself towards Zuriel’s, “– who cares about this company as much as she cares about her half—,” I meet Ptur’s stare again, “went through the effort of subduing him for further questioning.”
“Interrogating.”
“Which as we both know is a form of questioning therefore my statement still stands, Mr. Draak.”
He lowers his frame to a squatting position directly across from me near the edge of the rug. “Ptur.”
“Mr. Draak-”
“My company, my policies. When you’re in danger or have been in danger or in combat or,” his shoulders sink towards his toes, “are protecting me or our family that is a personal matter in which we use less formal language. I will add a subsection of this to the company handbook; however, for the time being consider it a verbal addendum. Understood?”
It’s equally impossible not to smirk and to ignore the way my fading adrenaline gets a second wind. “Understood.”
“Good. Now, tell me you’re okay, Pint-Sized.” His hands fold tightly together, fear still wafting from him. “Tell us both that you’re okay.”
Reassuring him is instant. “I’m fine. I swear.”
The skeptical glare I’m given is a dead giveaway that he doesn’t believe me.
“Really, Beanstalk. Taking him down was practically effortless. I’m more pissed off that he got my top dirty. Cream is so hard to get blood out of.”
“Spoken like a true orc.”
“Half.”
He happily hums prior to adding, “No need to worry about the stain. Gene will indulge himself in an unreal amount of joy during its removal process.”
He does love to serve.
He’s even started cleaning the glass multiple times a day in order to provide us as well as my mother the clearest view possible. He’s also started leaving rows of sunflowers along the edge of her cell, but I’m fairly certain that’s Ptur’s request. While he knows he can’t set her free, it doesn’t seem to stop him from wanting her to feel less like a prisoner.
“What brought you down here?” My head tilts in an accusatory nature. “The truth, Ptur.”
“Platinum was unsettled. And refused to get settled. And when that shit happens, I know it has to do with you. I can literally feel your energy despite the distance, just like I’m assuming you felt mine when I walked in.”
“Great Ones, it was like an atomic bomb blew up.”
“I don’t take my Fated Mate being in danger very well.”
A sweet smile is attached to my playful retort, “And I don’t take my half being harmed very well, either.” My bloodstained hand motions to the body that needs relocating. “Exhibit A.” Our shared light chuckle is followed by my announcing, “I’m gonna roll him up for a slightly more inconspicuous transporting. Can you have Truxxton retrieve and transport him to the on-premises dungeon, please? I believe there are a few more operatives embedded in the company that require prompt and forceful removal in order for me to actually do my job and for you to focus on your Superman shifter style mission.”
Mirth does its best not to appear in his glare. “It’s not a dungeon.”
“If we’re going to do the linguistic tango, could you at least move out of my way so that I can multitask? This traitor isn’t going to burrito himself.”
Ptur lightly chuckles, shakes his head, and assists in expelling the necessary debris that will allow for a smoother roll. Zuriel’s body remains rather lifeless yet seeing the rising and falling of his chest is plenty of indication that he is indeed still alive. During the process of clearing away the smaller broken chunks, our hands repeatedly brush against one another, fanning the lingering embers of adrenaline in my system. Having his calloused fingers continuously caressing mine causes my breath to hitch as images of his rough palms grabbing my ass begin to assault my mind. Despite the undeniable decaying odors, my smell centers on the woodsy one coming from the man I’m fated for. Every time I catch a whiff, I helplessly whimper, shut my eyes, and grant permission to my orc to moan inward like I can’t outward. And the more I do this, the heavier his hooded gaze gets, and the tenser his frame becomes, flexing his muscles to the point I can literally hear the stiches ripping. Each audible tear makes me wetter, and the wetter I get, the more he strains, leaving us stuck in this vexing sexual cycle that has no business being in the workplace let alone happening while we’re preparing the treasonist for transit.