Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 145341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
She heard the pride in his voice. She wasn’t used to a man like him. He made her want—more. Want a real relationship. Want physical intimacy. She wanted so much more than that, if she was admitting the truth to herself and to him. He was in her mind. He could read her thoughts.
I grew up in a wonderful family. My parents were good to us, but . . . She hesitated, feeling disloyal. They didn’t always stay in step with one another. Or they felt out of step to me. My mother kept this secret from my father. Her legacy of protecting your soul and then handing it to me when it was time for her to have children. She had sons first and finally me. She passed your soul to me and told me from the time I was little that I had a sacred trust that had to be fulfilled, but that no one else could know, not even Papa.
Afanasiv remained silent, allowing her to choose her words, never hurrying her. Never impatient with her. He flew low over the ground, shielding them from any eyes, but true to his word, he flew very fast.
I think Papa knew she kept secrets from him, and after a while, it took a toll on their marriage. She told me often that she loved my father. Really loved him, and I believe she did, but how could she?
She was not my lifemate, sívamet. Once she was of a certain age and realized she was merely the guardian of my soul, she was free to love whomever she chose to give her heart to. In that way, she would have children, or at least a daughter to continue the legacy. I have heard of such things but had no idea I would ever be a part of it. Your legacy of demon fighting was also something your mother kept from your father?
Vasilisa nodded her head and then rubbed her cheek against his chest even as her gaze followed her aunt’s stumbling tracks in the snow. Slow down just a bit, Afanasiv. I think we’re closing in on her.
Through the snow-shrouded world, Vasilisa caught occasional glimpses of a tall, slender figure wearing trousers and a very fashionable matching jacket that in no way would keep anyone warm. As she peered down, Afanasiv took them directly over that pitiful-looking woman. It was, indeed, her aunt.
Olga appeared much older than Vasilisa had ever seen her look. Her hair was disheveled and falling in strands around her face. From her position above, Vasilisa could see that small patches of her scalp were bare. Olga reached up and tore at her hair, ripping some out by the roots. She was ruining her own hair and didn’t seem to notice the damage she was doing.
Olga alternated between muttering curses, promising revenge and sobbing. She fell in the new knee-deep snow and pounded on it with her fists before managing to extricate herself. Snow clung to her clothes, forming little balls that hung off her and made it more difficult to walk. Still, Olga persisted.
Why doesn’t she shift? She’s Lycan. If she took her wolf form, she could run over the surface much more easily. This makes no sense. Vasilisa tried to puzzle it out. Olga was intelligent. In their world, Lycans were respected, and they ruled the territory. Should someone come along, they wouldn’t know the difference between the shifter and the real animal.
She might not even remember she is Lycan, my lady.
His voice, so tender. Wrapping her up in a velvet heat to comfort her when sorrow threatened to overwhelm her.
She was once our beloved aunt. When our parents were murdered, she fought off the intruders. The boys helped and so did I. There were so many of them. Eventually, when it appeared as if we were going to be overrun by the enemy, she demanded we enter the safe room. When we said we wouldn’t go without her, she insisted. She backed us up right into it.
Vasilisa rubbed at her temples. The headache that had been there earlier had come roaring back with a vengeance. We could hear and see everything through the audio and video our father had set up. She fought them off. I don’t know how many she killed to keep them off us, but she took up a position in the narrow hallway leading to the safe room and forced them to come to her the only way they could.
Afanasiv brushed kisses on top of her head, his lips lingering in her hair. Always remember her that way. That is your true aunt, not this shell of a puppet. Your aunt died a long time ago, and it is proper to mourn her. When this is over, that is what we will do for her. I can assure you, sívamet, your aunt is no longer alive.