Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 99285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Although as soon as I entertained that thought, something pushed against it. My mind repelled it, causing my belly to clench in denial. He hadn’t hurt me so far, hadn’t done anything but touch me, stare at me as if I was the most important—only—thing in his life.
He looked at me like he owned me.
And so I ran, ran hard and fast as if I were trying to escape that fact, because that was my reality right now.
I probably should’ve been more worried about kneeing a guy in the balls, a guy who claimed he was a vampire. And even though that thought settled into my mind and consciousness, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it seemed so absolutely right and believable, that it made so much sense.
Was I in some kind of parallel dimension? Dropped into some alternate universe? Was I unconscious and just dreaming this entire scenario? Oh God, had I died back in my room, and this was the afterlife?
Because vampires were only in books and movies. Right?
I nearly tripped over my own feet as I slid to a stop at the front door, reaching out and tearing it open, rushing outside just as I heard a deep, rumbled laugh come from Adryan.
Oh God, how crazy was he if he was laughing at being kicked in the balls?
I wasn’t thinking anymore. I was just reacting. There was a flurry of snow that had just started to fall, the ground not yet covered, but the brown, dormant grass was crispy under my bare feet as I ran. It was like little needles under my soles, but as I ran harder and faster, that discomfort faded when survival picked up, and I started to feel numb.
The need for survival coursed through me, but also something else, something darker. Something that had my insides clenching and heat moving through me. Something that I’d only felt with him.
I knew there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. I knew I could try to escape, but that’s all it would be. Trying. He’d catch me. I could hear him behind me, feel his gaze on me. A glance over my shoulder showed he stood in the open doorway, a sadistic fucking smile on his face that shouldn’t have had my insides tightening in anything other than fear.
I faced forward and ran harder, having absolutely no idea where I was heading or what I was going to do, knowing there was a very real possibility I would freeze to death out here with nothing on but a thin shirt, a pair of shorts, and being barefoot.
But still I ran, pumping my arms and legs faster and harder, winding my way around the thick trunks of the trees. By now my feet had gone numb from the cold. It was pure adrenaline that gave me the strength to keep going when otherwise I would’ve felt too tired, too sluggish to go on.
Or maybe it wasn’t any of those things. Maybe I wouldn’t have run because of how I felt, but because of something far deeper than I wanted to admit.
I was turned on from all of this.
But despite all of that, I refused to be a victim. I refused to just give in, even if a part of me—a strong and incessant part—whispered how good it would be to just let go with Adryan.
So I ran and ran hard, hearing him coming despite the distance that separated us, picking up every little thing as if my body was attuned to his, as if this was exactly what was meant to happen.
His boots crunching on the ground.
His even breathing.
The low, rhythmic sound of him growling.
His groan when he was close enough to me that I felt his body heat.
I could barely see, the night a cloak of dark shadows and barely discernible moonlight filtering down through the bare-bone branches.
I swore I felt his warm breath on my neck, causing goose bumps to skate across my arms. I was shaking, and it had nothing to do with the cold of the winter's night.
And then I felt a surge of strength and stubbornness move through me. I stopped and turned, facing off with a man I didn’t want to believe wasn’t a man at all.
My heart raced, fear so strong in me I knew he could smell it. But I wouldn’t let it outwardly show. And then there he was, walking casually, leisurely toward me as if he hadn’t been chasing me. He wasn’t out of breath, wasn’t disheveled from a hunt through the woods.
He looked amused.
He was aroused.
I narrowed my eyes and straightened my shoulders as he came closer, shaking my head vigorously. “I refuse to believe you’re some fictional creature.”
He grinned all predator-like. “Whether you believe it or not, the truth still stands.”
“You’re not some immortal vampire,” I whispered more to myself than to him and retreated a step back, and another, until I felt a tree stop my escape. I placed my hands behind me on the thick, rough bark.