Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
I hear the soft sound of women's voices as I approach a well-lit room. The door is cracked, causing it to send a stream of bright light onto the floor.
"Thank you so much." I hear a soft voice crack with gratitude. I think I recognize it, but I'm not sure.
"You really must stop thanking me." That voice, I'm certain, is Mrs. Adora’s.
"I don't know how, but I promise I'll learn." I listen to the soft voice as I hold my breath and dart across the door, hoping they don't see me.
"Yes you will, and I will help you along the way." Mrs. Adora answers her with confidence, and I breathe in relief. They didn't see me. I keep my pace slow as I continue moving. I don’t dare peek in for fear of being seen.
"I hope I learn fast enough. I don't want to make them angry."
"Oh hush dear, learning to cook is an art and takes time. And the Lords of the castle won't even notice. Everything will work out perfectly." Her voice fades as I move farther down the hall.
I concentrate ahead on a section that's still well-lit and look at the paintings on the wall. They’re massive and the colors are slightly faded as if they’ve been up for centuries. They must be of family. The brothers all look so much alike and so do all the men in the paintings. Most are of people, of shifters, but some are landscapes. One catches my eye as I get closer to it. There are three swirls, one green, one blue and the largest red. It looks as though it's been painted with fingers. The swirls blend together and are dusted with small ovals, like fingerprints almost. My eyes widen as I realize that's exactly what they are. I squint and look back at the beautiful works of art. They're intricate and stunning. And then this piece. Is it a child's finger painting?
"It was our mother's favorite." A deep voice startles me and makes me jump back as I turn around, put my hand over my heart, and stare wide-eyed at Drago. The pounding in my heart returns with a vengeance. My mouth parts in shock and no words dare to leave me. The man’s eyes flicker, and he tilts his head while asking, "Did Drago give you permission to wander?"
Fear grips every inch of me and chills travel down my arm. I swallow and think about lying to him. But I'm a shit liar. His brow cocks as he waits for my answer and all I can do is I shake my head no.
He chuckles and says, "I didn't think so." He looks down the hall and lets out a sigh that’s far too casual. "Do you really think it's wise to upset your Master?" His brow raises in question and anger seeps into the heart of who I am. No one is my master. I would rather die. I take a hesitant step toward him and gather my courage to tell him exactly that. I raise a finger, although as soon as I do, I instantly regret the move. Drago's brother, I'm guessing Galen, stands tall with his shoulders squared, daring me to speak with disrespect. I consider biting my tongue, but then I'm not given the choice.
The shifter takes in a heavy breath and his eyes flash reptilian and blue, his beast. It startles me and I instantly take a step back. He steps forward with a hastened need as something changes in his expression that I cannot place, and he presses his body against me taking a heavy inhale of my neck. I stare up with fear as he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head with one hand. He looks crazed as his breath comes in ragged intakes. "Your smell." He says the words like a prayer. Fear collapses my lungs. My chest hurts and my legs go out from under me. I've never felt so vulnerable in my life. The need to fight is dimmed, but a different kind of agony grows. Regret for leaving the safety of Drago’s bedroom.
Before I can process anything, his eyes widen, as if realizing what he's done and knowing how scared I am. I’m barely able to notice it but before he has a chance to back away and apologize, a loud snarl echoes down the hall. I turn to my right, down the way I came, and red eyes are the only thing I can see from the darkness. I can barely swallow, let alone move. Fear paralyzes me.
Slowly the form of a dragon comes into view. Low piles of smoke breathe from his snout. Scales shine and seem to glow in the low light from the flickering torches. Heavy steps shake the floor as he approaches, stalking toward us.