Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
He flops back on the cot with a grunt.
Drawing on threads of Aoife, I begin knitting his flesh back together, pushing aside his complaints and my frustration so I can concentrate on the task at hand. When I’m finished, only a thin silver line remains.
Zander lies so still, I wonder if maybe he’s asleep, until his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. “You shouldn’t deplete yourself for me.”
“I haven’t depleted anything. And you’re welcome,” I add in a clipped tone.
His head rolls and hazel eyes shine bright in the globe’s glow. “Thank you.” His crooked smile stirs flutters in my stomach and melts my annoyance.
“That is why I don’t want you coming to the rift without me.” I trace the ridges of his taut abdomen. A more exquisite male body, I have never seen.
“I will keep that in mind. Now, where were we?” Reaching down, he wraps his palm around his length and strokes himself a few times, igniting a fresh wave of warmth and anticipation inside me.
Strong, rough hands seize the backs of my thighs. He yanks me upward, his forearms straining as he lifts me onto him. The feel of his tip against my center draws a gasp from my lips. It’s followed closely by a cry as he pulls my hips down, sinking deep into me.
His eyes never leave mine as he fills me completely, my body stretching to welcome him in. “You are my entire world,” he whispers hoarsely, his hips lifting and falling in tandem with mine.
“I don’t want to be apart ever again.” Even though I know the chances are high that we’ll be pulled in different directions very soon.
Every muscle in his torso flexes as he sits up to meet me, his hand clamping over my nape as his lips move forcefully. I roll my hips to pull him deeper into me, and the guttural sound that escapes his throat is almost my undoing.
What follows after is not our usual graceful, rhythmic dance. This is lust-filled and desperate, our fingernails raking along each other’s skin as our slick, naked bodies keep searching for purchase, as if we can’t find it.
I know what drives this overwhelming urgency in me, this frantic need to erase all space between us—it’s the foreboding feeling that every time together is the last. So I don’t temper my cries or slow my lips or let my thoughts slip anywhere beyond this perfect being who has made me whole as I come apart with his touch.
My limbs are boneless as my body relaxes against his and I revel in his arms. Outside, there is a massive army and a heavy threat hanging in the air. The buzz of voices and clang of steel is near constant.
But in here, it’s just the two of us.
“I don’t like being apart either,” he whispers, fingers stroking a pattern of swirls across my back.
I inhale the scent of him again. Let it burn into my senses, absorb into my skin. “Abarrane told me you think Atticus is in Kier?”
Zander groans. “Can we not remain in this blissful bubble for just a while longer?”
“Fine.” I fold my forearms and rest my chin there to stare at him, waiting.
He sighs heavily. “If he is alive, he is in Ostros by now, and we have far bigger problems to deal with than rescuing him.” He taps my wrist. “Who has been giving my queen jewelry?”
“I wondered how long before you noticed.”
“I noticed the moment you landed in my bed, and then you distracted me.” His palm smooths across the curve of my ass cheek before sliding back up my body to test the gold. “A token.”
“From the nymph elders. I went to see them this morning.” I quickly fill Zander in on the strange, airy field I found myself in and the painful exchange.
He curses. “How are we to withstand not one but two fates?”
I shake my head. I don’t have the answer to that. “But Lucretia says Aoife isn’t our concern. Malachi is. He’s—”
“In Cirilea. Yes, I know. I was going to tell you.”
“You saw him?”
“More than saw him. I spoke to him. Abarrane and I landed in the castle courtyard after assessing the city from above. I was ready to stroll in and reclaim my throne, but there he was, waiting for me, a tall, thin, dark-haired male I’ve never seen before, wearing my crown and my clothes.” His hard swallow fills my ear. “Foolish of me to think it would be that easy.”
That sounds like the man I saw lying in the stone box below Sofie’s castle. “What about Sofie?”
“She was at his side. There is no mistaking her. She looks exactly like that sketch you drew.”
The one Zander stole while I slept and passed around Cirilea’s guard to be on the lookout, thinking she was a caster in Ybaris or Mordain. My stomach clenches with memories of that enigmatic woman in the green silk gown, and the version that followed not long after—a precise and fearless killer who will do anything to get what she wants—her husband. “What happened?”