Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“Very good.” Ls Prissa nodded regally. “And now, we will leave you. Guards—come!”
And they marched away, leaving Addie and Drago alone on the dais.
23
ADDIE
“This is crazy, right? I mean, everyone here is insane,” Addie said in a shaky voice as she stood beside the iron chair.
Drago was fastened in securely and the thick leather straps around the big Kindred’s wrists and ankles had been padlocked shut by the Head Guard. Addie tugged at them anyway—if she had a knife, she might be able to saw through the straps, she thought. But they were over half an inch thick and nearly as hard as the iron chair they were attached to, so probably not.
“Yes, they’re fucking crazy,” her Protector agreed. “Look, Addison—I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t come to find you sooner. It was inexcusable for me to leave you alone for so long.”
“It’s all right.” Addie looked down at her hands, fiddling uselessly with the thick leather strap holding his right wrist to the arm of the iron chair. “I figured it had something to do with your Drake.”
“It did,” he agreed morosely. “But there’s still no excuse.”
“About your Drake…” She hesitated but when he didn’t object, she went on. “Could you, you know, let it out now? Maybe it could get us out of this weird situation.”
“I’m afraid not.” He shook his head regretfully. “I mean, this room is big enough to hold it, but it’s too damn unpredictable. It’s a Primal Drake—it has the mental understanding of an animal. Which means I can’t reason with it, so letting it out would be dangerous—it might even kill you. Not on purpose, though,” he added, clearly seeing the horror on her face. “By accident. But you’d still be dead. So no, I can’t let it out—not even to get us out of this mess.”
Addie shivered.
“All right, you’ve convinced me. No Drake today.” She sighed. “I never should have insisted on coming here in the first place. You were right—Sambla is a snake. He only lured me here to get ‘fresh blood’ for the Vargans. Whatever that means.”
“I think we know what it means—they think I’m going to get you pregnant with a ‘Choosing Child.’” Drago’s deep voice was filled with loathing. “But I’m not fucking going to do that.”
“No!” Addie shuttered. “I don’t want that either—I’d never have a baby and leave it here with these lunatics!” She looked around uncertainly and dropped her voice. “But what if…what if she’s really watching from somewhere? Ls Prissa, I mean. What if she can tell if we don’t, you know, breed?”
"We'll have to fake it," Drago said, frowning. "You get out my shaft and pretend to mount me and pretend to bite me, too. We'll fake-fuck for a while and then tell them we're done. Hopefully they'll let us go after that."
Addie bit her lip and then winced as one of her new fangs pierced her skin. “Ouch! I think they’re getting sharper!” she exclaimed, putting a hand to her wounded lower lip—when she pulled it away, there was a smear of blood on her fingertips.
“Your fangs?” Drago gave her a considering look.
She nodded.
“Yes, but it’s fine. I guess I’ll learn to live with them.” She tried to sound nonchalant and failed miserably. She did not want to have to “learn to live” with vampire fangs for the rest of her life. But what else could she do?
You could drink, whispered a seductive little voice in her head. Ease the dryness in your throat. Why don’t you just try a sip? Without meaning to, her eyes drifted involuntarily to the big vein pulsing along the side of her Protector’s neck. God, her throat was so dry it burned.
No—stop that! she ordered herself. We’re going to fake it—that’s all we’re going to do. I’m not really going to bite Drago any more than he’s actually going to fuck me. We just have to pretend and get through this and then we can go home.
“Well, I guess we ought to, uh, get started,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “Should I, you know, take out your, uh, shaft?”
“You’ll have to,” he said dryly. “Since I can’t do a damn thing strapped down to this fucking chair.”
“Okay.” Addie nodded.
Leaning over him, she ran her fingertips along the waistband of his flight leathers, feeling the play of muscles in his flat abdomen as she did so. God, he really was gorgeous in a big, scary warrior way! But she still wanted to be respectful of his bodily autonomy.
“Sorry about this,” she murmured as she found the magno-tabs that held his flight leathers closed and popped them open.
“Don’t be sorry, baby,” he growled softly. “It’s not your fault. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to feel your soft little hands on my shaft.”
Addie felt her face get hot with a blush as a rush of pleasurable embarrassment washed through her. So he wanted her to touch him—the thought made her pussy throb with desire.