Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
“You talk about a day with him,” says Elias suddenly, voice quiet and calm, “and a month with me … I gotta admit, leaves me wondering what twenty-six years means to you.” Kyle peers at him. Elias meets his eyes. “I know he’s still in your heart.”
Kyle wrestles away the thought—and a bit of unexpected warmth emanating from Elias. “I wasn’t even thinking about him. Why would I be thinking about him at a time like this?”
“Because I know part of you wondered why he didn’t show up to save us from the vampire the other night.”
Kyle nearly laughs. “Now you’re the one reading me?”
“Maybe I’ve got all of this wrong. You and I are more alike than I realized.” Elias stares ahead. “Who am I to blame you for being any degree of reckless? My middle name is reckless.”
“Actually, it’s Asad, which means ‘lion’ in Arabic. And yes,” says Kyle, “I remember.”
Elias smirks, then shakes his head and says, “I still don’t think it’s a good idea, trusting this Drake guy. I’m not behind this, Kyle. At all. But I’m sucking it up right now for the sake of survival.”
“I know.”
“My so-called Protected Blood status means shit to these vampires,” he goes on, as if in reminder. “It won’t save us here. My mom didn’t want me to come back, y’know. She’ll probably try to contact whoever she’s got, get someone big involved …”
“You mean someone from Vegasyn?”
“Don’t get your hopes up. I don’t get the sense they give any form of a shit what happens to their Protected Blood. That list only exists so they know who’s fair game to feed on. There’s no ‘protected’ about it. Might as well call that list a room service menu. Or more like: what’s no longer available. A paper pamphlet they stuff into the menu. A fucking joke.” Elias rubs his head. “Nah, no one from Vegasyn is on their way to help us, no one at all, no, sir. We’re on our own out here. If I had money on it, I’d say Lord Mark-fuck-ian would be downright overjoyed if you, me, and this whole town were wiped off the map tonight.”
Kyle glances blankly ahead, realizing the truth of it. How foolish, to think for one fleeting instant Tristan could suddenly show up, Tristan and his knowing misty blue eyes and infallible confidence, bringing with him his impenetrable attitude that nothing can possibly touch either of them, knowing what to do in any situation, making damned sure not a hair on Kyle’s head is harmed. Tristan, who looks like a gust of wind could knock him over, yet proves in the end absolutely fearless of placing his head directly into the mouth of the beast.
Kyle wonders suddenly if he took Tristan for granted all of those years they were together. The security he felt with him. The mentorship. The guidance.
The love.
Time passes. Even more time. Soon, no one in the church is scared anymore. Just restless. Bored. Mikey is curled up on a pew to rest, but getting little of it, peeking his eyes open every few seconds to glance at a nearby window. The chief has done all he can do in terms of preparing, and he sits still, gun in hand and eyes as sharp as arrows, waiting like a statue. Kyle and Elias are now the ones pacing the room.
Drake comes inside at long last. Everyone stirs from their spots, for a moment alarmed.
Until he says: “They’re not coming.”
Kyle comes forward. “They’re not? How do you know?”
“I could’ve sworn they’d come. They should’ve come. My brother at the very least. Why didn’t they? I even sensed him, for hours, in and out, like a bad radio signal, heard footsteps.”
The chief remains unsatisfied. “I don’t believe you.”
“You won’t have to. Soon, even this room won’t be safe for me and Kyle to stand in. See for yourself.” He nods at the nearest window. “Dawn’s already on us.”
The chief frowns, peers at his watch, then stands and heads to the window. Indeed, the sky is glowing a deep blue, signaling the end of the longest night of their lives.
Why doesn’t anyone feel relief?
“Either they’re toying with us, wearing down our patience, or planning something bigger,” says Drake, dropping onto the pew with a sigh. “It’s not necessarily bad they didn’t come … but it’s definitely not good.”
28.
The Tiny Spider.
—∙—
Kaleb’s back is pressed to the bed.
Above, a beautiful chandelier hangs, glass shards refracting across the walls in tiny rainbows and shimmers of light.
Markadian is on all fours over Kaleb, down at his waist, his tongue lapping up and down the length of Kaleb’s cock.
Kaleb’s fingers curl into the bed sheets.
He holds back from coming.
Markadian seems to prefer Kaleb never comes, desiring to make the moment last forever, as if their fun is always fleeting and if he dares let it end, it won’t come back. Kaleb is forced to endure. Hours. Gripping bed sheets. Gritting teeth. Staring up at chandeliers, or out at an empty auditorium, or straight ahead at a blank wall, thinking of anything to hold back his orgasm.