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)
“I have nothing.”
In a wave of self-pity, she sensed the witch’s weariness. “How long can you hold the protection spell?”
“A while, but it will slow me down.”
“I’m afraid haste is a necessity.” Adriel bit into her wrist.
Juniper bolted back. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“You need to keep pace and keep your magick intact.” She stepped forward.
Juniper drew back. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not drinking your blood!”
“It will not change you. It will only make you stronger.” It would also help Adriel track her if they separated.
“I said no.”
Adriel’s arms crossed at her stubbornness. “Then you cannot come with me.”
The girl didn’t argue. But when her face pinched tight and she turned her head, Adriel caught the collar of her smock.
“Hey! Get off!”
“Those barbaric hypocrites.” Adriel released her, seeing all she needed to see in the shadows of a puncture wound on her neck. “Did they feed from you?”
Juniper’s jaw trembled, as did the forcefield around them. Cerberus was getting closer, and the witch’s foolish pride could cost them their lives.
“Do you want to die? If you’re coming with me, then open your mouth. The blood will give you strength and speed, which we need to make it out of here alive.” Adriel snatched her by the hair when she still hesitated and forced her mouth to her open wrist. “Zippel hex, drink.”
Juniper stiffened, and a sharp pain knifed through Adriel’s head. She released her immediately and gasped.
Glaring back at the witch, she snarled, “What are you?”
“I’m not someone who allows compulsion. Are we clear?”
“I was trying to help you!”
“Not without my consent.” She closed the distance. “Are you all right?”
“Don’t come any closer.” Adriel rubbed her temples, unsure what the witch had done to reject her compulsion. “Perhaps you’re stronger than I first assumed.”
“Gosh, I should have said that.” She rolled her eyes and glanced back at the fallen trees. “Can we go now? I should be able to keep the spell moving with us.”
“Should?”
“Pardon me, but I’ve never been in this situation before. I was once normal, with a normal freaking life before vampires fucked everything up.”
They were going to die. “Weren’t you raised by witches?”
“Yes, but… We were sort of living in the broom closet. My aunt harnessed my energy at times so I could watch her practice, but I rarely did spells on my own. The protection spell is the first thing we learn.”
They were doomed.
The trees creaked and bowed. “We’ll head north as far as we can get on foot. If you drop the spell, he’ll find us, and you’ll be as good as dead, so let’s hope this works.”
“Wait.” Juniper caught her arm. “I don’t know your name.”
She hesitated only a moment. “I’m Adriel Schrock, eldest of my line, matriarch of my family, and certain to suffer more cruelty than you can imagine if we do not leave this place now.”
Her hand moved from her wrist to close tightly about her hand. “I won’t let you die, Adriel. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 3
Gracie’s bare feet beat against the damp earth as she battled back a sob. It couldn’t be true. He would never leave without saying goodbye. Yet, as she opened her mind, all traces of Dane were gone.
She rounded the schoolhouse. The children were still abed as the sun barely crested the horizon. The air still held the acrid scent of damp soot and burned wood from the fire last night.
Cutting the corner quickly, her feet slipped on a flat, moss-covered rock embedded in the mud. Before she hit the ground, her hand flung out to catch the post of the split rail fence that lined Dane’s property.
Pausing to catch her breath, she looked at the barn, her heart pounding and her mind reaching, but he wasn’t there. It was empty.
Dane?
Dane, are you there?
The absence of his noisy thoughts stirred a terrifying ache in her chest. The closer she came to the barn door, the heavier the truth became. In the silence of his missing thoughts, her heart roared like thunder.
He was gone. Dane was gone. After everything, he left. Though she always feared he would—even wished it occasionally—the reality of his disappearance burned like bitter medicine.
Her hand pressed to her woozy stomach as she stumbled up the path. Colby did not bark or rush out to greet her. In the dog’s absence, ever-cheerful songbirds mocked her bewildered heart with their first morning refrains.
Her mind reached for his again. Dane? Are you here?
The gaping silence that answered chilled her to the bone. There was nothing but hollow, aching emptiness. No sign of his dreaming mind, no sound of his breathing, no lingering scent of lamp oil, sweat on his skin, or sunlight baked into his clothes.
Her vision blurred as her heart denied the quiet she found in the shadows of the barn. He could not be gone. He wouldn’t just leave. He… He wouldn’t.