Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“Yes,” Constantine said. I looked up to find him back inside the room. “Immediately.”
I blinked, wondering who he was going to go get, but froze when I felt Pavlov blink out just as easily as Constantine had done it only moments before.
Then, just as quickly, he was back… but not alone.
Fuck no. He had a dead goddamned body in his arms that was in the usual black body bag.
“What the fuck…” I breathed. “What are you doing?”
Pavlov didn’t answer, only set the body down on the coffee table that was in front of the clear window that led into the office.
Then he unzipped it, and my heart caught in my throat.
“They’re still collecting evidence on him!” I gasped, lifting my foot to take a step forward.
“No, don’t,” Constantine said with a hand on my belly. “It’s not safe.”
“What do you mean it’s not safe?” I growled, trying to take another step forward.
Constantine pulled me bodily up against him, dropping his mouth to my ear as he whispered furious words.
“You have no clue what’s going on here, little girl. So how about you sit down, be quiet, and not interrupt?”
My ire shot through me, but then he dropped his mouth to my neck, and my anger transformed straight to need.
“Later.”
I realized then that he knew exactly what I was thinking. Shit.
I was turned in his arms, and with one look into his eyes, I realized my mistake.
I was treating him as a person. One who played by the rules.
Constantine, although he had been a human at one point in time, wasn’t anymore. Nor was he the type to play by the rules.
“Fine,” I whispered roughly. “I’ll sit.”
And I did.
Like a nice little girl.
I watched as the men crowded around the body bag that held Chen. I watched as my brother milled about outside the office door not even six feet away, eyes scanning over a video feed.
I watched some more as my brother got a phone call, and his face turned purple.
He must’ve just gotten the call that Chen’s body was stolen.
If I had to guess, Pavlov likely didn’t even leave a trail.
Likely, one second he was there, and the next not. Cameras were probably even rolling the entire time.
My brother was going to have a coronary.
“You doing it or am I?”
I returned my gaze to the men to see Pavlov, Abraham, and Constantine standing over the coffee table. Constantine was shrugging out of his dress shirt, and underneath he had on a simple white t-shirt that clung to every curve and dip of his chest.
Pavlov had been the one to speak, and he’d been in the process of removing his own dress shirt.
Constantine waved him off. “I got it.”
Pavlov nodded his head, and Abraham used his fingers to press on his jaw. Chen’s mangled mouth dropped opened
This really was the creepiest thing I’d ever seen.
Then, without further ado, Constantine slit his wrists with a silver blade he produced out of nowhere and forced it over Chen’s mouth.
Pavlov stuck his finger between Constantine’s wrist and Chen’s mouth, then forced his fingers down the dead man’s throat.
I guess to force the man to take the blood whether he wanted to or not.
Which, I guess since he was dead, wanting and not wanting were moot points.
Blood from Constantine’s wrist, a surprising amount of it, leaked out of the sides of Chen’s mouth and started to fall to the white carpet underneath the three men’s feet.
It also rolled onto the couch, collecting into a pool underneath Chen’s head.
My stomach wanted to revolt, but I managed to stay still, even though everything inside of me urged me to run out of the room and never look back.
And still, nothing happened.
“He’s been gone too long,” Abraham said, sorrow filling his voice. “If your blood couldn’t bring him back, then he’s not going to come back.”
“Acadia,” Constantine snapped. “Bring me a bag of blood out of my fridge.”
I blinked, struggling to comprehend what he’d just asked me.
Then, woodenly, I got up and walked to the small refrigerator that was located in one corner of the room, opened the door, and reached for a bag of blood. The only bag of blood.
It was heavier than I’d expected.
A darker red, too.
“Hurry,” Pavlov griped.
I narrowed my eyes and hurried, all the while keeping my annoyed look on my face and aimed at the rude man.
“Here,” I retorted.
Constantine took it, ripped the top off, and drank it like a vampire version of a fucking Capri Sun sans straw.
I watched Constantine’s throat work instead of concentrating on the fact that he was sucking down blood as fast as I downed the sugary kids’ drink.
And then frowned when, once finished, he immediately ripped open his vein again with his mouth and returned his wrist to Chen’s still not drinking—at least that’s what I assumed he was supposed to do—mouth.