Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“If she were here, I know her answer would be no.”
“But she’s not here—and we both know her stubbornness knows no bounds.”
Ian looked away.
“I think we should do it.”
“It’s too risky—”
“It’s riskier if this guy is telling the truth and we don’t use him.”
“Can you imagine how the Runes would feel if Necrosis was among them?” he asked incredulously, his eyes shifting to me.
“They don’t need to know.”
“And once they start feeding on people, what then? How do we explain that?”
“They won’t.”
“If they don’t feed on us, then what are they going to feed off?”
I remembered what he’d said, when he got to a point of intense starvation, he couldn’t control his senses anymore. His body acted on instinct, did whatever was necessary to survive. “I’m sure we can come up with an alternative.”
“Like what?” he asked. “Cows? Do animals have souls?”
“Yes. But I don’t think that would work. We can make them hunt in the wild.”
“So, hunt other innocent people?”
“They’re gonna do it whether they’re in HeartHolme or not, and since their help will spare so many lives and afterlives, I don’t think we should get too hung up on it. A few for the many, right?”
He gave a slight cock of his head then a shrug. “I need to speak with him before I make my decision.”
“Alright, I’ll talk to him.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Whenever he finds me again.”
ELEVEN
Elora
“Pay up.” I snapped my fingers then opened my palm wide.
Hugo gave a loud gruff in irritation. “You already took a hundred coin—”
“I don’t care what I took. No one forced you to raise the stakes. Now, pay up, or I’ll make you pay up.”
He gave another gruff along with a glare.
I stood my ground in the bar, surrounded by men who stared at our confrontation.
He finally reached into his pocket and dropped the coin pouch into my open palm. “Cheat…”
“What was that?” I snatched the bag of money and stepped in front of him. “If you’ve got something to say, you should grow some balls and say it loudly. You know, what I’m doing right now.”
He sidestepped me and marched out of the bar.
“Little bitch…” I opened the drawstring and counted the money before I sat on one of the stools at the bar. “I’ll take a pint.”
“You got it, sweetheart.” The barmaid smiled at me before she filled the glass and slid it across the table toward me.
“Make that two.” He sat in the chair beside me, in a black long-sleeved shirt and dark pants, his short brown hair combed back. He received a smile from the barmaid before the pint was placed in front of him. He was well-kept and well-dressed, so it was clear he didn’t roam the streets all night with nowhere to go. He grabbed the mug and took a drink as he continued to face forward.
“I was wondering when you’d turn up again.”
“I turn up when you stop wondering.”
I pivoted on the stool and faced him, my hand resting over the top of the mug. “If we’re gonna drink together, we should be on a first-name basis.”
“You’re obsessed with my name like it’ll tell you anything about me.”
“It’ll tell me a lot. A name is a powerful thing. It’s your identity in words. If your mother had named you something else, you probably would have been an entirely different person. It can change destiny.”
“You believe that?” He turned slightly on his stool, giving me more of his direct stare, more of his hard jawline and ruthless eyes.
“Yes.”
“So, if your mother had named you Rose, you think you would have been a passive flower that waits to be pruned? That relies solely on her looks to manipulate the emotions of the person who has your full attention?”
My logic had been turned against me, but I was too stubborn to admit it. “I do that every day.” I grabbed the mug and took a drink, my eyes on him all the while.
A very subtle smile moved on to his lips, just enough to reach his eyes. “Bastian.”
I’d never heard the name, but it somehow suited him.
“What does that tell you?”
“You’re strong.”
He took a drink.
“But broken.”
He flinched before he set the glass down. It was a quick movement that he tried to cover up, but I noticed it.
“I relayed your message to my brother. He wishes to speak to you face-to-face.”
He stared into his glass. He smelled of birchwood and fresh leaves. The thick muscles of his body pulsed with vigor, with the fuel from heavy meals of meats and breads, not souls. In every way, he looked like a man of HeartHolme, a man who worked his hands raw in the carpentry shop he owned. But he wasn’t alive. He was dead. “And I should expect to walk out of there as a free man?”
“He has no intention of harming you.”