Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 247882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1239(@200wpm)___ 992(@250wpm)___ 826(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 247882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1239(@200wpm)___ 992(@250wpm)___ 826(@300wpm)
Isbeth’s eyes went wide as her entire body jerked.
“That’s for Poppy’s brother,” I bit out.
Slowly, Isbeth lowered her chin and looked down to where the bone protruded from the center of her chest. Missed her godsdamn heart by an inch, if that.
Her gaze lifted to mine, the glow in her dark eyes bright. “Ouch,” she hissed, shoving me back. Hard.
My head cracked off the wall, the pain exploding behind my eyes in a hundred starbursts. Sliding sideways, I caught myself before I toppled over.
“That was really unnecessary.” Isbeth’s chest rose as she reached down, gripping the bone. The Handmaidens had moved in, but she stopped them. Only Callum remained where he knelt, his eyes fixed with captive interest. “All it served to do is anger me.”
“And ruin your gown,” I added. The pain in my head intensified the hunger—the need to feed and heal whatever recent damage had been inflicted.
Her lips pulled back, revealing blood-coated teeth. “That, too.” She pulled the bone free, tossing it aside. “Contrary to what you may think, I don’t want to kill you, even though it would make me feel very, very happy to do so at the moment. I need you alive.”
She continued speaking, but I only caught parts of it. Her heartbeat had sped up. The scent of her blood was strong. I even heard the golden Rev’s heart. I felt the steady thump of the Handmaidens’, who stood quietly behind her.
“He needs blood,” Callum stated.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“He needs an attitude adjustment,” she retorted.
Thump. Whoosh. Thump. Whoosh.
“Can’t argue with that. But look at his eyes. They’re nearly black.” Callum started to rise. “If he doesn’t get some blood in him soon, he will—”
“Rip your fucking throat out?” I finished for him. “And shove your entrails down the gaping hole?”
Callum’s lips pursed as he eyed me. “That painted a lovely picture. Thank you.”
“Fuck you,” I growled.
“Well, we know what your favorite word is today.” Isbeth sighed, wiping at the blood that ran down the center of her stomach. “I don’t know why you’re being so difficult. I’ve given you food, clean water, a”—she glanced at where a downed Craven lay—“somewhat safe shelter. All I’ve taken from you is a finger. And yet, you stab me.”
The absolute fuckery of her statement cleared a little of the haze of impending bloodlust.
“Meanwhile, my daughter has taken my port city from me,” she continued, and my entire body tightened. “Ah, I see that has your attention. Yes. Penellaphe seized Oak Ambler, and I have a feeling I’m now a few Ascended short of what I was before.”
I felt my lips start to curve upward.
“Smile all you want.” Isbeth bent at the waist, her heavily lined eyes shrewd. “Do I look remotely bothered by the news?”
It took a moment to focus. No, she did not.
“Oak Ambler would always fall,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that I barely heard over her heart. “It had to.”
A low rumbling sound filled the cell, and she straightened suddenly, her crimson lips thinning. My lips had peeled back, and that sound…it was me.
“Oh, for godssake.” Isbeth snapped her fingers, motioning one of the Handmaidens forward. Something was in her hand. A chalice. “Hold him.”
Callum moved fast, but I saw him. I lurched to the side and to my feet, throwing out my elbow and making contact with the Rev’s chin, startling the bitch. The golden boy grunted as he stumbled back. There was no time to relish either of those things. I launched myself at her. The chain tightened around my throat, jerking my body back. I shot forward again, past the point of caring how tight the band around my throat clamped down. Past the ability to register the pain from the shackles digging into my ankles. I pulled hard against the chains, stretching out—
An arm clamped around my chest, hauling me back. “That hurt,” Callum muttered as he slammed his booted foot into my calf. The move, one I should’ve known was coming, took my damn leg out from underneath me.
I went down, my knees cracking off the stone floor as one of the Handmaidens gripped the chains securing my arms and twisted. She forced my arms to cross over my chest, pinning them there as fingers dug into my jaw, yanking my head back.
“Get this over with,” Isbeth ordered.
Another Handmaiden briefly appeared in my line of sight as I bucked against the Rev’s hold, my feet slipping over the floor as I threw my head back. The hiss of pain brought a wild, choked laugh to my lips as Callum’s head snapped back. I pushed my weight into him, slamming him into the wall as I dragged the Handmaiden holding the chains forward.
“Gods,” Callum groaned, shifting his hold from behind me. “He’s still strong.”
“Of course, he is,” Isbeth commented. “He’s of the Elemental bloodline. They are always strong. Fighters. No other bloodline would’ve been brave—nor idiotic—enough to stab me. Even when they’re mere hours from becoming nothing more than a blood-starved animal. And I bet he also has the blood of my daughter in him.”