Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 145341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Afanasiv halted in the great hallway to look down at his lifemate. The land spoke to his woman? Mother Earth spoke to him. He had Dragonseeker blood running in his veins. He might not claim it to the outside world, but there was no denying he was fully Dragonseeker.
Vasilisa looked up at him with her crystalline blue eyes. “What is it?”
“Your brother referred to the ‘old ways.’ He acted as if those in the Sacred Circle were committing treason against your family.”
“Not just our family, Afanasiv, but our people, as well. Those that fall within our charge, such as the wildlife. Dimitri is a part of our land. He came to us long before I was born and is a legend here, yet suddenly he is treated with mistrust and suspicion after all he has done for us. He has relentlessly hunted vampires at great cost to himself. He has acquired permits for the land to keep it wild and free, something none of us would have thought of. Where did the mistrust come from? The underground Sacred Circle. We should have shut it down immediately when the movement began to grow again.”
Afanasiv waited for an explanation of why they didn’t.
Vasilisa sighed. “These people are our friends. We grew up with them. Most of those adhering to the stricter laws of the Circle were older. The younger, modern Lycans seemed to ignore or just be amused by their archaic beliefs.”
Afanasiv brushed the pad of his thumb along the back of her hand. “I have the feeling your brother is angry enough that he will do just that, drive those from his territory who insist on staying with those beliefs.” He couldn’t help framing the side of her face with his hand. Her skin was even softer than it looked. “You do realize that when he forces them to leave their homes, they will hate him and want revenge.”
“We are used to being hated—and hunted. I am concerned about the government agents staying at the inn. They inquired specifically about Andros, and they also mentioned him ruling over the land. That would be considered treason. If a member of the Sacred Circle had evidence that Andros was the king here, or we were considered a ruling family, that would be enough for his arrest and imprisonment.”
Afanasiv heard the note of worry in her voice, and that set alarms going off. “Surely you are able to jam the cell phones or any kind of device from recording when you are speaking.”
“We can, although we sometimes forget, even though it is a safety rule. We get so comfortable with people, believing they are our friends. I’m especially guilty of that. I tend to take people at face value rather than intrude on their thoughts.”
Afanasiv resisted the urge to give her a lecture on personal safety. She was well aware that had she scanned her aunt a few times, she might have saved them all a tremendous amount of pain and suffering. He didn’t need to point that out to her. His woman was soft inside. She might be a fierce warrior, more than capable of standing with him in any fight, but she was soft and compassionate. He filed that away. He needed to protect that part of her—even from herself.
Andros came up behind them. “I wish to see you in the formal dining room, Vasi,” he said. His tone was cold enough to match the outside temperature. “Both of you.”
Afanasiv was not a man to take orders from anyone. He had shut himself off from all contact with humans or Lycans for two hundred years simply because he didn’t trust himself, not because he was sentenced to go there. He imposed strict controls and discipline in order to keep those around him safe.
The tone Andros used was offensive to him. The way he stalked past them and continued down the wide hallway to yank open one of the double doors and slam it closed behind him was more than offensive. It was a deliberate insult. Afanasiv felt his teeth slide into place. The familiar well of white-hot adrenaline rushed through his veins.
He found it odd and a little disconcerting to have to tame emotions after not feeling anything for century after century. Right at that moment, he wanted to tear the king limb from limb for his audacity to treat a Carpathian warrior who had saved his life with such disrespect.
“My brother is an arrogant ass,” Vasilisa said. “We don’t have to go in and hear his lecture if you’d rather not.”
Afanasiv’s gaze moved over her upturned face, dwelling on her high cheekbones, her aristocratic nose, her large blue eyes framed with dark lashes to match her dark hair and that generous mouth that tilted so invitingly at the corners. A slow smile started somewhere inside him and built until it actually reached his lips. A genuine smile.