Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Maybe it was the wine.
I took a sip, swallowed, then said, “Is that also why neither of you is interested in Monica? Because of the prejudice?”
He appeared surprised by my question. Maybe he didn’t expect me to ask. He glanced in Monica’s direction, and when he found her still locked in conversation with the demon next to her, he replied very quietly, “Monica is a succubus. Her powers are weakened by her tattoos, but she can still drain some energy from the people she sleeps with. She thinks that because we’re new to the prison, Sven and I don’t know what kind of demon she is.”
“But how do you know? Did someone tell you?”
Vasilios shook his head. “No. I have the ability to sense what a person’s strength is.”
“Does that only apply to demons, or can you sense anyone’s strength?”
“It doesn’t only apply to demons, no,” he responded before eating a piece of beetroot.
I stared at him, curiosity getting the better of me. “What’s mine, then?”
He put his fork down and drank some wine. I thought he wouldn’t respond, but then he said, “I think that’s something you’re better off discovering on your own.”
His words were solemn, and I was about to push him on the matter when a clinking sound filled the room. Lara stood by Sarasin’s side, tapping a wineglass with a fork and drawing everyone’s attention. Conversation hushed. We all stared at our host, waiting for him to speak, but instead, he motioned for Lara to bend down so that he could whisper in her ear. I could practically feel the weight of our collective breaths being held.
Finally, Lara straightened and addressed the room. “Sarasin has made his decision,” she announced, and across the table, I heard Mack murmur, “Oh, yes, finally!” She and Vincent shared triumphant looks, and I thought it a little presumptuous for her to think she’d be bestowed the Gift.
I startled when beneath the table, Vasilios took my hand. My initial instinct was to pull away, but something was soothing about his touch, and because it was such a nerve-racking moment, I decided not to withdraw. His warmth sank into me, relieving some of my tension, as he settled our entwined hands on his thigh. A strange flurry filled my stomach.
“As you are all aware,” Lara went on, “tonight one guest will be chosen to receive Sarasin’s Gift and another his Curse. If you are chosen for the Gift, you will be given a choice to see a vision of the past or a glimpse into the future. If you are chosen for the Curse, you shall remain here with Sarasin for the next thirty days.”
She paused for a moment, then leaned back down to Sarasin. I stiffened when I saw her frown, her eyes flitting to me. I squeezed Vasilios’s hand so tight I was sure I was hurting him, but he didn’t voice a single complaint. Something told me that Lara’s frown didn’t bode well for me, and I was about to discover if Vasilios really meant it when he said he’d volunteer for the Curse in my place.
Lara stood up straight again and drew a deep breath. Her expression was almost apologetic, and my heart pounded. Oh, shit. It was really happening. I steeled myself, preparing for a blow, but it never came.
“The recipient of the Curse will be inmate number 751,” Lara announced.
Relief struck me like a sledgehammer because that wasn’t my number, nor was it Vasilios’s. I had no idea who it was until I saw two elves approaching Monica. Oh.
I suddenly felt terrible for her, even though I didn’t like her very much. She gave no outward sign of fear other than a stiffening of her shoulders and a resigned tilt of her head. The two elves escorted her from the room, leading her away and through the glass door which Sarasin had emerged from.
I shared a look with Vasilios, and he seemed just as relieved as I was. Across the table, Mack had perked up, ready to be selected. I hoped to God that Sarasin chose her because I expected she would be fuming mad if he picked someone else.
“And the recipient of the Gift will be inmate number 804,” Lara finished.
Time stood still. My gaze lowered to the numbers printed on the breast pocket of my jumpsuit. I was inmate number 804. A chuckle sounded from the far end of the table where Serg sat. He was very obviously amused by this turn of events, especially since Mack was his rival in power.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Mack roared as she stood from her seat. “You picked her! She hasn’t been here more than a week. She doesn’t deserve the Gift. I urge you to reconsider!”
I sat frozen next to Vasilios, my hand holding tightly onto his. I didn’t think it was something I’d ever find myself doing, but he was the closest thing I had to an ally.