Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 137871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 689(@200wpm)___ 551(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 689(@200wpm)___ 551(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Listening for cues, she caught the swift breath of a feminine gasp as a branch cut into the pursuer’s skin. The scent of fresh blood pulled a growl from Adriel’s throat as weakness begged her to feed.
The creature's sharpness was animal-like, akin to that of small prey, reminding her of a fox or a coyote. Adriel’s nose twitched at the sharp metallic scent of fresh blood—not immortal blood nor purely mortal.
Hunger carved her insides hollow as the gamy canine-like scent called to her. Her head jerked upward as the scent intensified. It was getting closer.
Releasing her grip from the tree, Adriel dropped off the branch, falling forty feet to the earth below and landing in an agile crouch. Her eyes dilated, and her fangs extended as the swift rush of footsteps raced toward her.
Low and alert, she growled and pounced as a twig snapped. Snarling hard and vicious, she collided with the soft body, plowing it into the dirt. A sharp scream pierced the forest, and lesser creatures scattered as Adriel slammed a hand over the girl’s mouth, recognizing the escaped witch as The Order’s prisoner.
“What are you doing here?” Drawing back her claws, she hissed, fully engaged as a predator prepared to defend her life to the death if need be.
“Don’t hurt me!”
Adriel stilled as the witch cowered in fear, her arms protectively blocking her face. Grabbing her by the throat, she jacked her off the ground and shoved her hard into the narrow trunk of a tree.
“Why are you following me? How did you escape? And what do you want?”
The witch struggled to work her voice past Adriel’s lethal grip. “Please,” she choked. “Don’t…hurt…” She tried to pry away her hold, but Adriel’s claws only lengthened, pressing harder into her narrow larynx.
She had no time for mercy or entrapments. Witches were not to be trusted. “How did you get out of your cell, and why are you following me?” She loosened her hold on the girl's slender neck just enough for her to answer.
She gasped and choked down a breath. “Dane let me out. The bishop knows I’m gone.”
Eleazar permitted this? Why?
Out of habit, Adriel nearly reached for her shared mental link with her friend but quickly remembered that such communication could jeopardize her safety. She would need to rely on her intuition alone. Because she was utterly alone.
Her jaw hardened. Anything the plebe said could not be trusted. She jerked the girl by the throat. “How did you catch me?”
A witch as lacking as this plebe should not have been able to keep pace with an immortal as ancient as Adriel—injured or not.
“I…I don’t know.”
Adriel’s eyes narrowed. Had she used magick? Had she gone in circles? Tightening her grip, Adriel bared her teeth and growled, “Stop following me.”
“I…” the witch croaked, her voice straining to escape. “I can help you.”
Adriel released her and turned away. “I highly doubt that.”
Brushing a hand over her shorn red hair, she scanned the sky for the north star, reorienting herself with the direction she needed to travel.
Gathering her skirts in hand, she glanced back at the witch with scathing promise. “Follow me again, and I’ll kill you.”
Knees bent, she crouched to spring into the trees—
“You’re Amish!” the witch blurted.
Adriel staggered off balance and scowled at the girl. “I’m many things. Most of which you should have the common sense to fear. Are you so dense and depraved that you require physical proof of my nature? I will kill you, girl.”
“Look…” The witch held up her palms in supplication, her filthy hands shaking like leaves. “I know you’re s-s-strong and immortal, and you could kill me with little effort, but—no offense—you’re sheltered. You probably don’t know anything about modern technology, and you seem to be running from something. Plus, aren’t vampires really old?”
Adriel rolled her eyes. Age only amplified an immortal’s powers. And despite her maturity, she didn’t look a day over twenty-five. “Go away, child.”
“I’m not a child! I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“That farm is all you’ve ever known, am I right? You’re ignorant of the ways the real world works. It can be dangerous out there—especially for women.”
Her lip curled with annoyance, covering a tremor of fear. Adriel had survived thus far, and modernization should have made the world safer. Shouldn’t it have?
The girl was getting in her head, so she growled, “I’ve seen dangers you couldn’t imagine, and I assure you, I’m much stronger than I look.”
“Probably, sure,” the witch rushed out in a desperate attempt to plead her case. “But outwardly, you’re just a doe-eyed, pale-skinned waif with a pixie cut, and that’s what they’ll see when they look at you. They’ll see you as an easy target, and they’ll take advantage of your ignorance.”
“Who is they? Who do you speak of?”
“Criminals. Thieves. Predators. Bad men. It’s not safe out there for women, especially women who spent their entire life sheltered on an Amish farm.”