Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Wait for the harpy-oracle’s return? Nah.
“No, Daddy. No!”
Isla! Blythe flashed into the bedroom connected to hers. The precious angel tossed and turned under a lacy pink quilt. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Momma’s here,” she cooed, caressing the little girl’s face.
An anguished whimper escaped her child, and she briefly squeezed her eyes shut.
Taliyah materialized at her side, took in the scene with a glance, and deflated. “I’m never going to convince you to see things my way, am I?”
No. “Roux should be your enemy, too,” Blythe replied with a quiet tone. “Isla will have no peace until I achieve vengeance.”
Maybe she wasn’t yet ready to take on Roux, but she could power up on soul—sustenance for her phantom side—and cause him some damage. It would be a start, anyway.
“Blythe,” Taliyah began, sensing the direction of her thoughts.
“No. No more conversation.” Determined, Blythe kissed her daughter’s brow, then slipped into the spirit realm, becoming undetectable to all, even a fellow phantom like Taliyah, and flashed to her new snack closet. The barracks containing the Astraian army, located inside the wall the warlords had teleported around the city the day of their invasion.
The massive three-story structure was divided into nine sections, one for each Astra. There were rooms for soldiers on the bottom, with different facilities and offices in the middle, and a covered, windowed walkway on top.
Blythe couldn’t occupy the structure for long without weakening. When she weakened, her ability to cloak herself deteriorated.
Today, she would eat and run, staying no more than five minutes. A huge improvement, considering she’d lasted sixty-six seconds her first visit.
Sticking to Roux’s portion of the structure, she stalked the corridors. Day and night, his soldiers took turns doing patrols throughout the world, on the lookout for her father and his minions. Those who weren’t on patrol were either resting, training, or playing.
Coming upon the sleepers stretched out on a multitude of bunkbeds, she rubbed her hands together. “Let’s see what’s on the menu today,” she muttered. An eclectic mix of vampires, Amazons, banshees, and shifters. Males and females Roux had conquered throughout the ages, no doubt.
Hatred grew unchecked in her heart, sprouting thorns that pricked her veneer of calm.
She got to work, ghosting over the nearest sleeper, pressing her lips deep into his throat, and sucking out a single gulp of his soul before moving on to the next course. Her version of a sampler platter. This served two purposes. One, she affected a cluster of soldiers rather than a lone combatant. And two, no one would associate the slight, unexpected weakness with a phantom feeding.
Blythe glutted herself without reservation or guilt, consuming more than ever before. Some beings tasted sugary, others spicy, but all provided her with a warm burst of energy. When she finished, unable to hold another drop, she wiped her mouth and prepared to flash away with thirty-two seconds to spare. The perfect time to hunt her foe.
Someone burst into the room, crying, “Bossman is fishing in the maze again!”
A buzz of excitement crackled in the air. Everyone but those she’d sampled exploded from their beds, dashing out the door. Her appeteazers lumbered a little.
Hmm. Bossman—Roux?
Just in case, she teleported to the center of the royal garden. The heart of the realm’s only maze. Bloodred flowers bloomed all around, sweetening the air. Large ebony spears grew from the limbs, interlocking to create a wide circle around a stone bench. A contingent of harpies and soldiers clustered about, gaping at the male in the middle of it all.
Roux indeed. Sunlight bathed him. He wore a short-sleeve white T-shirt beneath a blood-soaked apron, the alevala decorating his arms on display.
He wasn’t handsome by any means; his features were far too harsh for such a classic description. But. She pursed her lips. As much as she loathed to admit this, some females might consider him sexy hot. Over six and a half feet of muscle and sinew, he possessed a body built for war. Wavy blond hair appeared softer than silk while golden scruff on a strong jaw looked deliciously rough. Long lashes framed the most unusual yellow irises with striations of magenta, gray, and russet. The red had vanished completely.
Why, why, why is this Astra familiar to me?
Seeming bored, he wiped his crimson-stained hands on a rag. Though everyone else muttered about the carnage he’d just wrought, he remained quiet.
A vampire lay upon the bench, sobbing and frantically scanning his open chest cavity in the process of regrowing every organ but a racing heart, which remained whole. The original vital organs were scattered over the ground. A multitude of lungs, intestines, kidneys, gallbladders, stomachs, and livers. A thick metal hook protruded from each.
Blythe prowled closer, gaze locked on her target. Midway, she exited the spirit realm, catching his attention. And his scent. Cedarwood and spiced oranges. A fragrance as lovely as it was horrifying, bringing back memories of death and pain.