Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
It sat smugly on his bedside table, the blade tucked away, the handle metallic and smooth.
He’d returned with it yesterday.
At some point, he’d gone up to Victor’s dead zoo where he’d drawn my blood and taken me on the cross. He’d reclaimed that sharp little knife…for what?
For protection from the Masters roaming the halls again?
To slay the monsters in his mind when he woke up screaming in the dark?
Or for something else?
He needs to talk to me.
He’d bottled up far too many things.
Every feeling had noosed around his throat until he hung on that rope, slowly choking.
But how could I get him to talk in a place where talking was so treacherous?
It wasn’t a simple matter of sitting down and clearing the air between us.
I’d often gotten so frustrated at couples who never talked through their problems. So many issues could be solved with a frank and accepting conversation.
But here, under the constant watch of cameras?
Everything I needed to say was treasonous and everything he had to say was probably far too personal for an audience.
Didn’t stop the words lingering on the tip of my tongue.
Assurances that I didn’t hate him, that I cared, that I trusted him despite the mess between us—
The door crashed open.
As if I’d summoned him by thinking about him, Henri appeared.
Dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt, he looked like a man who’d already been hung from the gallows, and now only his ghost haunted me.
“He’s here,” he muttered.
My ears rang, so used to his silence by day and screams by night.
It took a while for those two words to compute. “He’s here?”
“He’s summoned all of us. We’re to gather in the ballroom.”
“Victor.” I shuddered and crossed my arms.
“Victor.” He nodded.
Marching into the bathroom, he closed the door.
Victor was back.
Yippee.
* * * * *
Sunshine streamed through the ballroom’s stained-glass windows, determined to give no places for shadows and evil to hide, forcing them out into the open.
Unlike all the other times Henri had fed me in here—all the nights I’d kneeled at his feet and done my best to stay quiet while jewels acted out pornos and Masters stuffed their faces, there were no scents of dinner or slaves dressed up for a show.
The stage was empty.
The aura of the room tense with expectation.
My ears pricked as two Masters a table away shot us a look. Their whispers couldn’t be deciphered, but the way they gawked at Henri hinted at what they spoke about.
They still thought he was either a cop or a killer.
Weeks had passed, and still, their suspicions fogged the room.
Drinks were served, and Henri sat fisting his beer glass, his eyes skimming the crowd of men, some with a jewel at their feet and others sitting together, quietly chatting. A few awful rounds of laughter. A quick squeak from a slave getting reprimanded.
I flinched as I caught the jewel’s eye. Corinne. Bowing her head, she used her hair to curtain her face.
Sucking in a breath, I scanned the room.
Twenty-two guests.
I’d hoped Victor would see fit to revoke more memberships than he had. Seemed the month long abstinence from this place ensured an eager crowd.
I counted the guards next.
Twelve ringed the doorways dotted around the ballroom.
Mollie was right.
We were severely outnumbered. Hopefully in four months, when we’d done all we could and Christmas rolled around, there’d be half this number of patrons. A quarter. We’d need all our strength to fight the guards without fearing the Masters and their electricity remotes.
My heart rabbited as I stroked my collar.
I hadn’t had the opportunity to test to see if it was still inactive. Even if it was…it didn’t suddenly open doors that’d once been closed. I couldn’t waltz over the drawbridge and hail a taxi. I couldn’t send telepathic messages to my brother and give him our address.
Telepathic.
I stiffened as I recalled a few more twin flame notes that Krish and I had researched: The intensity between you and your twin flame can sometimes cause phenomena like telepathy and psychic connections. An intense connection of belonging and yearning. An inner pull that can’t be ignored or stopped. Your bond can be so profound, you begin to feel the other’s pain, desire, and stress.
Was that why I could sense Henri’s unravelling?
Were we that connected even when we both struggled against it?
Sighing heavily, I dropped my fingers from my collar.
My eyes snapped to Peter across the ballroom.
My heart instantly squeezed.
He kneeled like the rest of us next to a Master with a bushy brown beard. The man’s large belly sat on his thighs as he chuckled at something another Master said.
Peter gave me half a smile as our eyes met. The shadow of a bruise on his cheekbone made my hands ball with fury.
He wasn’t even out of bandages yet, and someone had already struck him.
My heart didn’t just ache. It tore.