Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Hardly an ideal situation, but I’ve been dealing with impossible situations for years now. Being the last monster hunter from one of the most famous monster-hunting families in the human realm means I’m the one people call when they have no one else.
For the first time, guilt flickers through me. I was also thinking about myself when I agreed to pay the price for Mina’s bargain. I needed answers, and the demon realm is where they live.
I’m only now considering the potential implications of me being absent for seven years. There are other monster hunters. But few of them have been around as long as the Jaegers. They don’t have the track record, the trust, or the word of mouth that gives people a place to turn.
This should’ve been something I considered before saying yes. Or, at the very least, I should have negotiated some leniency about returning to the human realm to take care of any emergencies. I straighten my spine. It’s too late for regrets. I have to deal with the situation I’ve made. Besides, I may have signed the contract just now, but there’s nothing to say I can’t request an amendment to it.
Except . . . I don’t.
Azazel rolls the contract up. I don’t make any suggestions as Bram turns for the door and motions for me to follow him. I don’t speak a single word as we walk down the hall that certainly wasn’t there before to a grand arched door that has plenty of room to fit Bram’s wings through.
Bram glances sideways at me. “Are you afraid of heights?”
It’s an effort not to roll my eyes. The only reason I resist is because I need him to trust me enough to not post a guard on me every hour of every day. As it is, his aura is almost completely the burnt orange of irritation. I’m sure there’s some way to garner goodwill, but at this point, I just want to be left alone. “No.”
“This should be a memorable experience then.” Without another word, he scoops me into his arms. I’m so shocked at his audacity that I don’t immediately fight him. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. By the time I realize I should be fighting him, he opens the door and sweeps through . . . into nothingness.
I don’t scream. One of the first lessons a Jaeger learns is to be silent in response to fear. A scream or even a whimper can get you killed when you’re on the hunt.
But I sure as shit cling to Bram as he launches himself through the air, seemingly miles above the ground. The cold cuts through my insufficient dress as if it were nothing. That’s the only reason I huddle against his broad chest. Not because it feels nice to be held by him. Our hair whips around us violently enough to cut skin.
I think Bram laughs though I can’t be sure because the wind whisks away any sound. I can’t even focus properly to check his aura. Bastard. He did this on purpose.
I can’t speak. I can’t fight for fear of falling. I can’t do anything as we wing our way through the air. The hopelessness of the situation closes around my throat, making me want to hurt him. It’s everything I can do to stay still.
We seem to fly forever. Misery, along with the cold, sears its way to my very bones. I’m certain I’ll never be warm again. I’ve endured torture sessions less agonizing than this experience.
When Bram gathers me close, I forget myself enough to just be grateful for a little extra warmth. At least until his voice sounds in my ear. “Brace yourself.”
I don’t get a chance to ask him what I’m bracing myself for. The bastard pulls his wings together, and then we’re diving toward the ground at mind-bending speed. Still, I don’t scream. I didn’t think I’d go out like this, crushed in a million pieces, but I suppose they are worse ways to die.
I can’t open my eyes, and even if I could manage, I wouldn’t be able to see past the tears caused by the wind. I barely notice that our horrifying dive has turned into something slightly more controlled when the angle of our bodies changes. We’re still moving too fast, but I think we’re parallel to the ground again.
Bram backwings, and my stomach tries to keep moving in the previous direction. If I whimper, the sound is lost. Or at least I hope it is. He lands almost gracefully, and then—finally—we’re no longer moving.
“You can open your eyes now.” His body shifts as he walks, and even if my pride hates it, the reality is that if he sets me down now, I’ll collapse in a pathetic heap. “We’ll have to get you more appropriate clothing for the next time. I forgot how fragile humans are. So sensitive to temperature.”