Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Tabitha rushes forward to examine them. “Wow. I don’t even recognize some of the countries.”
“Most of them no longer exist.”
“Ooh, you have a map of the Ottoman Empire!”
“Yes, circa 1595.”
I let her roam around the room, exclaiming over the ancient artifacts. I make a mental note–not impressed by jets but loves old artifacts. Perhaps that’s because she remembers her previous lifetime. The one when she was mine.
Tabitha straightens from examining a scrap of Flemish tapestry. “Are you trying to impress me?”
“Is it working?” I ask. I take her hand and gently lead her out of the room. I would let her stay until she’s pored over every item, but I know she’s hungry. I carefully seal the room again. It’s an old castle, but I’ve made all the upgrades.
Tabitha presses her lips together like she doesn’t wish to admit the truth.
Satisfaction plows through me. She is finally impressed.
She clears her throat as I lead her on through the library. “Will you tell me what you were doing on that mountain top?
“I had woken from a long sleep.” I consider saying more but decide against it. If she doesn’t remember seeing my dragon, I’m not going to reveal it yet. There’s already a lot to take in.
She studies me like she knows I’m holding something back. My bride is as clever as she is beautiful.
“You did scare me,” she admits.
“I know. I’ve regretted it ever since. You ran so fast. I tried to follow, but you disappeared into the village. I had to go back for my clothing, and by the time I returned, you were gone. I looked for you. I have been searching for you these past ten years.”
“How did you survive the storm on the mountaintop? The avalanche of rocks?”
The one I caused by shifting into my dragon form? “Easily. You'll find I am difficult to kill.”
Tabitha sighs.
“What is it, little one?”
“Each answer you give me only opens up more questions. I'm not sure why I'm playing this game.”
“Ah. I do enjoy games. Perhaps you’ll come to enjoy playing them with me.”
She flips her hair over her shoulder, not in a flirtatious way. She’s completely unpretentious and yet, at the same time, as regal as a princess. Quite an enigma.
“I don’t like games,” Tabitha says. “I'm too straightforward, much to my mother's dismay.”
“Oh? Does your mother play games?”
“Only one—attracting and acquiring rich men. She always hoped I'd inherit that talent. She pushed me into anything she thought would help—dance lessons, child beauty pageants, modeling contracts. I rejected it all.”
My chest tightens even though I’d already suspected this bit of information. “You don’t care for rich men?”
“No. They’re too in love with their own power. They like to own their women instead of partner with them, and they’re far too controlling.”
Something inside me shifts uncomfortably. My dragon doesn’t speak to me, yet I sense his judgment. I’m everything she dislikes.
Rich. Powerful. Controlling.
But these are the traits that make me a good mate. What could I offer her without them? She’d be unsafe. Without comforts. Unimpressed.
She’s already unimpressed. I push away that uncomfortable thought.
“You say you’ll tell me the truth and tell me more about yourself, but everything you say conceals more than it tells me,” Tabitha complains.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that is how I prefer to play the game, but she just told me she doesn’t like games. I will have to formulate a new plan. In the meantime, I will provide for my mate.
With a wave of my hand, I activate a hidden sensor, and two-story-high double doors glide open to reveal my dining hall. She takes in the massive onyx fireplaces that sandwich a long polished table. The room glows from the light of the fires and the candelabrum on the table. Overhead, a chandelier glistens.
“Isn't this a little overkill?” Tabitha asks, even as her stomach growls loudly. She wavers on her feet, and I catch her elbow to steady her.
“You’re famished, my treasure. Please join me at my table.”
With my hand at her back, I guide her to the closest end of the table and help her into a high-backed, plush cushioned seat.
“This is like a throne,” she muses and nods to the far end of the table. “Are you going to sit on one end of the table, and I sit on the other?”
Something is amusing her, but I’m not sure what. “Is that what you would like?”
She ducks her head to hide a smile. “Maybe.”
“Perhaps at another meal.” I rest my hand on her nape a moment before I seat myself beside her.
Tabitha
At the end of the room, a door opens, and a man in a tailcoat and white cumberbund enters, wearing a lofty expression. The pinkish haze of his aura clings to his pompadour.
Gabriel waves a hand. “Tabitha, this is my butler, Buttons.”