Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
But his own cockiness rubs me raw and brings me back to the moment. Giving me the strength to stop and tell him, “No.”
To make it clear I have no plans to do as he says, I throw his own smug smile right back at him. “You can’t make me.”
“Oh!” someone in the background exclaims. “She didn’t.”
“She did.”
Someone else chuckles.
Asher tightens his jaw and glances over his shoulder in irritation. “The peanut gallery needs to shut the fuck up or get out.”
“Peanut gallery? That’s what you think of your loving, devoted children?”
“Yeah, we’re cheering you on, Dad. Show Mom who’s boss!”
“You might be cheering for him,” another interjects, “but I’m betting she brings him to his knees.”
“Oh yeah? How much you want to bet?”
“A week’s worth of food.”
“Make it a month’s worth and you’re on.”
Taking advantage of Asher’s distraction, I reach down and snap the cuff on Isaac’s right wrist open.
All of Asher’s very being zeros in on me at the click of the cuff, and my muscles tense, prepared to be pounced on.
A split-second before Asher attacks me, the white-haired vampire twirls and dances between us.
“Father, please have mercy on Mother. You know that she’s newly turned and her emotions are high. I’m sure if she was in the right frame of mind, she would not disrespect you,” the creepy vampire pleads on my behalf.
A laugh bubbles up in my throat as Asher rears back and looks at the white-haired vampire in disbelief.
Not passing up another opportunity to free Isaac from the chair, I swipe my nails at the duct tape on his right arm, slicing it open.
“I’m not going to hurt her, Ambrose!” Asher bellows in fury. “I would never hurt her, goddammit!”
Reaching behind myself, my fingers search for and find the chain wrapped around Isaac’s middle. Grabbing the chain, I jerk my arm, snapping it off.
If I can get Isaac’s middle and legs free, I can vanish us out of here. I don’t know where we’ll go, but I’ll figure that out later.
Asher goes deadly still, and I feel him in my head, flipping through my thoughts as if they’re pages in a book, reading everything I’m planning.
A throb of hurt pulses behind my ribs but I shove it away, wishing I could shove it in his face.
Did he not know he was hurting me when he was hurting Isaac? Does he expect me to be okay with him torturing the only person I have left? Skirting around the promise he made me on technicalities?
Asher’s thoughts aren’t as clear to me, they’re dark and murky. Hard to wade through and full of stuff that slows me down. I know he’s hurt and angry, but I have no idea what he’s intending to do to stop me. Somehow he’s keeping me out.
If I could, I’d do the same.
If I could, I’d sever this bond we have in a heartbeat.
“Tear off as much of the tape as you can,” I tell Isaac, watching him out of the corner of my eye. “I’ll try to hold him back. Once you have your legs free, grab onto me and I’ll get us out of here.”
Chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths, Isaac nods his head and gets to work, ripping off the tape wrapped around his chest. He’s been beaten and tortured. His hands are covered in dry, crusted blood. His wrists are red and swollen from the cuffs. Patches of hair have been ripped out of his arms from the duct tape.
But he’s not weak by any means.
The boy of my memories, the sweet boy who spent all his time with me, protecting me from what he could, giving me a reason to live, to endure what I suffered, encouraging me to be strong and go on, has honed himself into a strong, lethal weapon.
A weapon of God.
“I’m going to fucking kill him!” Asher shoves Ambrose out of the way and launches himself at me.
Asher may not want to hurt me, but I won’t be returning the favor.
I have no qualms about causing him pain. I want to hurt him. I want to make him bleed for everything he’s done to Isaac. For everything he’s done to me.
When Asher is nearly within reach, I lash out with the chain, striking him across the chest and kissing his neck with the end.
The thick links of the chain slap against his skin, marking him with red, and he staggers back in shock.
“Chloe…” Asher exhales then looks down at himself.
I hit him hard enough to mar his perfect skin, but not hard enough to break it. Almost instantly the inflamed flesh begins to heal, leaving no trace of what I did.
This makes me furious.
Gripping the chain tighter, I gather it up, forming a loop, and brace for the next attack, ready to slap him across the face.