Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Elise slowly nods. “The Brotherhood comes from less traditional stock—which makes Gwen’s insistence on a traditional wedding ironic.” She laughs, matching action to words. “I don’t always agree with Landon’s decisions, but the way he’s so protective and loyal…I love him even more for it.”
The sheen of adoration in her eyes makes me envious. “Liam possesses both traits, but Sebastian…”
“He’s not protective or loyal?”
“He’s lust and passion, tortured and intense. He commands my attention just by being in the same room.”
“To me, it sounds like something’s there, Novalee.”
“It sounds like insanity. A union with him will never work. We’ll both be miserable.”
“Maybe you should give him a chance next month.”
“You’ve been talking to Landon too much,” I gripe.
“Well, from what he’s told me, you could do worse than Sebastian.”
I’m glad she’s not bringing up Liam as an option, because I’d have to dodge her on the reason Landon doesn’t want me near the chancellor, and I don’t want to lie to my friend.
“Sebastian’s still stuck in the past, so it’s a moot point.”
“His past isn’t here. You are.”
That might be true, but so far, the past has proven to have the worst timing imaginable.
And speaking of time…
“I should get back.” I rise to my feet, noting how the sun sank another notch on its journey toward the horizon, and work still awaits me in my studio before dinner.
We return to the tower and part with a hug before I head down the labyrinth of hallways, the hairs on my nape standing on end when I make my way past the portraits of the Brotherhood’s ancestors, my footsteps light and careful. I’m distracted as I turn the last corner, and that’s when I smack into Sebastian.
Literally.
He grips me by the shoulders to keep me from falling on my butt, his blue eyes turbulent as he scowls at me. “You should watch where you’re going. You never know what could be lurking in these halls.”
The sight of him raises my hackles, and I do what I always do when it comes to him.
I lash out.
“The only thing I’ve found so far are asshole men.”
“Just the type you can’t resist, right?” Smirking, he pushes me back a step, and the shape of his too-kissable mouth makes his intentions clear. He’ll suck the will from my bones the way he’s consuming all the oxygen in the hall. I could duck under his arm and make a run for it, claiming sanctuary in my studio, but instead I push forward and plant a hand in the middle of his broad cotton-clad chest.
“No, Sebastian.” Such a simple command filled with so much conviction and confidence that it surprises us both.
“Princess, you don’t have to tell me no.” He lifts his chin and stares down at me. “You made your choice clear enough at dinner.”
“So did you on the night of the ball, or have you forgotten about Lilith Astor already?”
His bitter laughter fills the hallway, incompatible with the gentle way he grabs my hand and folds his warm fingers around mine. “She isn’t the most forgettable woman, is she?” He pauses, and his voice softens. “Neither are you.”
His words disarm me, wrecking my concentration, and I can’t pull in a full breath when he’s this close, let alone come up with a worthy reply. “Isn’t this breaking the rules?” I nod at our joined hands.
“Probably, but I doubt holding your hand counts as inappropriate behavior.” He smirks again, erasing the hint of tenderness from a moment ago.
“Everything you do is inappropriate.” I wrench my hand free, attempting to slip past him before he realizes how fast my pulse is racing. My shoulder grazes his bicep, and the woodsy clean scent of him storms through my senses. His presence has completely shaken me, and I’m not sure I can hold back from touching him, or pulling his lips down on mine when his nearness radiates such tempting sin.
Just as I think I’ve made my escape, he drags me down the hall and forces me into his art studio. The door slams shut behind us, echoing the promise of too much privacy. I try to snake around his solid body, but he blocks me at every turn.
“Let me out of here.”
“Not until we talk.” Stalking me and eating up every inch of space, he shoves me into a chair and leans over, his artist hands gripping the arms.
If he didn’t have me trapped, stealing my will to fight him, his brilliant yet arrogant stare would be enough to pin me to the spot. My breasts rise and fall too fast, and no matter how hard I wish it away, a Sebastian-induced flush creeps up my neck.
“Then talk,” I say through gritted teeth.
Dangerous move, because his arctic gaze lowers to my mouth. I can’t help but lick my lips, though I’m not sure if I do it to provoke him, or because it’s an instinctual response to the longing in his expression.