Dark Throne, The Read Online Free PDF

attacker . And while she
longed to cling on to the thought that he was a squatter, or a
robber, even though they were implausible- what appeared to be the
truth was even more implausible. One of the Templar Knights
striding through your bare-bones bedroom didn't seem at all
possible and yet. . . . Here one was.
    Either that or robbers had taken to wearing fancy dress to
take part in daytime thefts .
    The lack of oxygen suddenly made itself
known . Her entire head felt
like lead and only the heavy pressure of his chokehold kept her
upright. When she felt sure she was on the brink of collapse, when
her body had said enough was enough and a swoon was the only way
she was going to survive without brain damage, she felt her eyes
flutter and her limbs start to twitch.
    The buzz of the phone scared the hell out of her and
apparently him . He let her go.
For what seemed like endless moments, she sucked in precious air
and never had Heather felt anything sweeter. She relaxed against
him, his body bracing her and keeping her upright. She never even
thought about scooping up the phone which stood a few feet away on
a stand. She never even thought about lunging for it and asking for
help. Heather was just relieved as hell that a quirk of the last
owner had been to have phones all over the place- one in the
kitchen, one in the downstairs hall, one in the upstairs hall close
to the bathroom and another in the bedroom. If not for that quirk,
lack of air might have killed her.
    "Where am I, woman ?
Tell me now or I’ll slit your throat.”
    The knife was no longer clutched in his
hand , it was pressing against
her throat. So sharp and so cold that a shudder rose and fell down
the length of her spine. She cried out a garbled sob as the metal
pushed into her flesh and it gave way.
    Regardless of the air she'd just sucked into her lungs,
Heather's air-starved brain had enough .
    Before fear, terror or panic could flood her veins, her
brain simply reacted to the threat in the only way it could- it
short-circuited .
    And Heather passed out .
    "Damned females ,” Fade
muttered under his breath. He removed the knife from her throat,
replaced it in the scabbard and hoisted her into his arms and over
his shoulder. She was so slight he barely felt her weight and
decided to do some exploring of his own whilst the female was
unconscious.
    Turning back to the doorway through which he'd entered, he
opened and shut the door twice but no portal
appeared .
    Anger simmered on a low heat in his veins and he found it
inordinately difficult to contain his irritation at the
situation . How on Mearth was
he supposed to return home?
    He'd heard of this before . Knew it to be the magic of those cursed hoonan women-
witches.
    While the female in his arms appeared to be a female
hoonan, he doubted she was a witch . She'd quivered in his arms, when he'd held her to him.
From the tales he'd heard, a witch would have turned his balls into
croaking toads. This woman certainly hadn't done that, or at least,
his dick was still in full working order.
    Fade grimaced at the realization that it had been nearly
six months since he'd sought and found relief . That was the reason he'd reacted to this
female. No other.
    Shoving the thought away, he glanced around and glared at
the strange room . This entire
place did not seem to be Mearth. It was too modern here. Too
unusual.
    His eyes took in the odd boxes and the strange
furniture , the odd rolls of
paper that rested on the floor and small tins of something called
Silk Gloss in a shade of pink so bright he grimaced, as well as
brushes and others tools he didn't recognize. They dotted the floor
as though the task had not yet commenced.
    With the copse of trees of the hoonan
land failing to materialize no matter how often he opened and
closed the door, Fade finally conceded defeat and walked towards
the strange machine which had caused him to start
earlier.
    It was fabricated from a strange, shiny
material . Unlike any other
he'd