Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Panic skittered down her spine, the urge to fight or flee settling into every muscle in her body. Surely she was misreading the situation. Seventy people surrounded them in the middle of this well-lit public place. There was no danger here.
Drawing moisture into her mouth, she said, “I’m Kaira Sorensen. And you are?” She couldn’t quite force herself to extend a hand.
Something flickered behind his gaze, and his eyes snapped to hers—and flashed with light. She would’ve sworn it. He sucked in a harsh breath. “Jakob,” he said, louder than necessary, the smooth tone gone. Now his voice sounded strained and ragged.
Instincts on even higher alert, she made herself observe basic pleasantries. Last thing she wanted to do was make a scene. “Nice to meet you, Jakob.”
Out of nowhere, another man appeared at their side. Kaira took a surprised step backward and gawked. Tall, broad, blond hair with an unusual braid hanging down one side. Ruggedly handsome and breathtakingly masculine. The resemblance between the pair was striking, except for the difference in their ages and the older man’s leanness.
The newcomer grabbed Jakob’s arm and yanked him back from her. “Let’s go.”
Jakob stood there, as if mesmerized.
The younger man grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to turn away, and then he hauled him across the room and out the door. Another man followed closely on their heels, nearly as tall and as broad.
The door closed behind them.
Shaking and heart pounding within her chest, Kaira cut her gaze to the right and left. The reception carried on around her, no one seeming to have paid any attention to her strange exchange with the man, or to his hasty departure.
What the heck had just happened? And why did she feel to her very marrow she’d just escaped a brush with death?
Chapter 3
Henrik’s back slammed against a brick wall, and the darkness of the narrow alley sheltered their trio from the tourists thronging Tromsø’s streets.
Lars stood at the entrance, making sure no one developed an unhealthy curiosity.
Jakob got right up in Henrik’s face, forearm pressing into the king’s chest. “What happened?”
Henrik shook his head, swallowing thickly, his hunger burning so intensely it was almost a living thing within him. “Wanted her,” he rasped.
It hadn’t been a decision. There wasn’t anything rational or conscious about it. From the first moment she’d approached him, he was awash in her appealing scent, like the smoky berries of a vintage wine or the rich bite of an aged, dignified whiskey.
“Wanted her how?”
“I wanted her.” He knocked his head against the brick. Even now, he couldn’t shake the image of the vein’s rhythmic dance along her slender neck or of the luscious dip of her cleavage, both displayed so invitingly by her upswept hair. His fangs throbbed with a want and a need he couldn’t remember feeling in ages. Not to mention the aching hard-on between his legs.
“Straight out no-shit bloodlust?” Something like hope sounded in the warrior’s deep voice.
“Fuck. Yes.” Henrik heaved a deep breath of cold January air as his imagination unhelpfully replayed how it would’ve gone down. Tearing the gown from her trim body. Holding her curves in his hands. Bearing her up against the wall. Sinking his fangs and his cock in deep until every dark, needy part of him was sated.
“I’ll get her.” Jakob turned away.
The king slammed his hand down on his brother’s shoulder and gripped hard. “Nei.”
“You want her. You need her.”
“I’ll kill her.”
Because he wouldn’t be able to stop.
Once he got a taste, something base and instinctual told him he wouldn’t be able to make himself stop. He’d been so close to the edge of his restraint in the gallery. Only the sound of her voice had pulled him back from the brink.
All he’d wanted was a night out of their mountain citadel, away from the looming promise of death. He thought the jovial atmosphere of the festival would distract him from all that was to come.
Instead, it had thrown it right in his face.
Christ, he was a catastrophe waiting to happen, already more beast than man. He shook his head again. “I’ll fucking kill her,” he rasped.
“You won’t.”
Acid washed through his gut. “You willing to risk an innocent woman’s life—or her soul—to see which of us is right? I’m not.” He shuddered, the danger of becoming like his evil enemies one of his greatest fears. “Leave her be. I’ll not have it any other way.”
Jakob lowered his chin and his shoulders lifted and lowered in a weary sigh. When he raised his gaze again, Henrik hated the grief and resignation he saw there, hated that he couldn’t go through this without dragging everyone around him down, too. “What do you want to do, then?”
“Get the hell out of here. And find some goddamned Soul Eaters to rip apart.” He pressed his arm to his side, feeling the satisfying weight of the holstered gun there. What he couldn’t take care of with his bare hands he’d happily dispatch with the clip of bullets poisoned with the blood of the dead.