Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79726 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Because more than anything, I want him to be real. I want this to be real. Which is probably just wishful thinking.
“You are quiet,” he says, breaking the long silence between us as his wings drop, allowing the rest of the world back in. The sunrise turns a brighter pink through the window behind him. “What is happening inside your head?”
I laugh and drop my head bashfully. At the same time, I’m very aware of my leg around his hip, opening myself to him.
“Well, actually, I was sort of wondering the same thing. What we did by the lake. . . and just all of this. Getting to know you. This has all been a really intense experience. I’m wondering. . . who you are.”
He frowns in confusion. “I’ve told you and shown you. I’m Remus, god-born from the life spark stolen from the Great Hall—”
“No,” I laugh. “I mean, I’m starting to get that. Not that I can really wrap my head around it, but I get it. I’m talking about who you are.” Suddenly self-conscious, I pull my leg back, pressing my hand to his chest instead. He captures it, holding it there. I try to keep breathing as I continue, “On the inside. Who is Remus? What kind of person are you?”
He frowns again. “No one’s ever asked me that. I have only been myself. Brother to my brothers.”
“Who would they say you are?”
I flip my hand to take his hand. He looks down at our hands in surprise, and I almost pull mine back, embarrassed, but then he squeezes it before I can.
He moves close so that there’s barely any space between us on the bed. I can feel the heat of his hard body. When I dare to glance up at his face, I don’t miss the smile there, smaller than the wild grin he sometimes has. As if he looks. . . contented. At least until he begins to speak about his brothers.
“My brothers might not have the kindest words to say about me.” He winces, pulling back again. I’m both frustrated and enticed by what feels like a tug-of-war between us. We’ve been so close all night, but just when I think he’s about to make a move, he doesn’t. “Battle was the only language our father understood. Brothers fight, naturally. And our father thought we could only become the best if we fought the best—which was each other. Our epic battles could span days, weeks, months, even in the worst cases, and destroy huge swaths of land before our father finally declared a victor.”
“Months? Just fighting each other?”
He nods as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world. “Lately, it has been different. We have been. . . more friendly. But that’s new. We’re all very strong in different ways. And our father was very demanding.” His mouth twists down.
“But what about when you weren’t fighting. What was your family like, then?”
He frowns down at me, as if he doesn’t understand my question. “All I’ve known is war.”
“Is that. . . what you want?” Some of the nice feelings in my belly start to fade, and I let go of his hand.
His eyebrows draw together and he immediately reaches to take back my hand, interlacing our fingers in between our chests. Does he notice I’m breathing heavier, my breasts all but busting out of the lace-topped nightgown as we face each other on the bed?
“I want you.” His eyes glance toward the window. “The world, it seems, has changed. Perhaps my brothers and I are no longer needed. Perhaps it is time for softer things. For consorts and. . .” His face scrunches up as he makes a face. “Peace.”
I laugh. “Don’t look so disgusted by the thought of peace. It’s nice when things are quiet.” I toy with his hand, my fingers playing with his in the small space between us.
He shrugs, still looking a little disappointed. “I was made for war. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself during peace.”
“Well, when were you last in battle?”
“It’s been well over two hundred years,” he says a little wistfully.
“What have you been doing since then?”
“My brothers and I have been having a long dispute.”
“For two hundred years?” I ask, shocked.
He shrugs.
“If you destroyed a bunch of land when you fought for months, what happens when you fight for two hundred years?”
“It wasn’t a fair fight because my brothers locked me in the dungeon for most of it. I’ve only recently been freed.”
My jaw drops. “Are you joking?” How did he tell me all about his brothers yet leave this little bit of the history out?
He looks at me and laughs, his fingers toying with mine again. “Don’t look so shocked, little consort. We are brutes and don’t pretend to be anything else. But my eldest brother was tamed by his consort, who convinced him to let me out.”