Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Right. So you insist on saying.” She rolled her eyes. “I have to say you’re definitely a benefit of this tumor.”
My smile fell, and I took a deep breath. Right. She had a tumor. She was dying. How could I be enchanted with her passion for what little time she had left and despise her illness at the same time? “What are you doing out here this late?” I asked, mostly to change the subject.
“I should be asking you the same thing.”
“I wanted to be near you.” The truthfulness of the statement puckered my brow. “And to check that you were safely tucked in.”
“See, normal guys use the phone number the girl gives them,” she teased.
“Not a normal guy.” I shrugged. “And by the time I finished work tonight, I figure you’d already be asleep, considering you need your rest.”
“There will be plenty of time to sleep when I’m dead.” She glanced past me out into the night. “I don’t want to miss a single second.”
My stomach twisted. “But you might have more seconds if you rested so you could fight your illness.”
“My mother fought. It didn’t do her much good,” she said softly, glancing down at her book and fidgeting with the pages. “What would you rather have? A shorter time lived to the fullest, or a longer time that’s not quite as sweet because you’re sick from treatment?”
“I don’t know.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Time is a relative concept for me. The longer I live, the less it seems to mean.”
“Good problem to have.” She patted the cushion next to her. “Come sit down. Staring up at you is putting a crick in my neck.”
I walked toward her slowly, making sure I didn’t accidentally slip into supernatural speed and scare the shit out of her, and then I gently tugged the chains holding the swing in place.
“You won’t break it,” she promised, patting again.
I sat carefully.
She laughed, the sound smacking me right behind my ribs. “Relax, Grim. You’re all stiff, like you’ve never sat on a swing.”
“I haven’t.” I leaned back, testing the wood with my weight. It creaked but didn’t give.
“I’m over here thinking of all the extraordinary things I’d like to do with the short amount of time I have left, and you’ve never sat on a swing?” She nudged me with her shoulder.
“It’s a first,” I conceded. “And I can admit, for a long time, I thought all my firsts were behind me.”
“Ah, a man of experience.” She cracked a huge yawn.
“You should get some sleep.”
“Then another day of my three months will be gone.” Her grip tightened on the paperback in her lap, and her scent changed subtly.
Fear. She was scared to sleep. And yet I knew that sleep was the most efficient way for humans to heal. There’s no healing her.
Three months. Grace would never hold her own child, never watch them grow. She wouldn’t celebrate another solstice—if humans still did that, or savor the first snow of the year. Three months didn’t give her anything but the summer. She sure as hell wouldn’t live long enough to be a bride or bear a male’s mating mar—
She’s human, you idiot. They don’t mate.
And after centuries around the females of my own kind, I’d given up hope that I would, either.
“What are you reading?” I asked, since none of those thoughts could be spoken.
Blood flushed her cheeks, and I locked my jaw to keep my fangs in place. God, she smelled even better this close, but only an animal would want to weaken her even further by feeding.
“It’s a paranormal romance novel.” She shrugged.
“Paranormal as in…” I reached for the book, and she handed it over.
“Vampires.”
I nearly fumbled the hand-sized paperback. “I’m sorry?”
She pointed to the cover, where a bloodred rose dripped. “It’s the third book in the Eternal Nights series. I spent so long reading academic books for school that I almost forgot just how fun fiction is.”
“Huh.” I opened to the dog-eared page. “How about I read it to you?” Hopefully she’d fall asleep and get some of that much-needed rest.
“You are going to read me a romance novel?” Her eyebrows rose with the pitch of her voice.
“Why not?” I glanced down at the page. “Seems like a good use of my time.”
“Suit yourself.” She grabbed the pillow at her side, set it in my lap, then pivoted, laying so her head rested on the pillow and her feet dangled off the end of the swing.
Fearless. The woman was fucking fearless.
And I loved it.
“You may begin.” She grinned up at me.
The urge to mold my mouth to hers and kiss her senseless nearly overpowered my common sense. Nearly.
Taste, my instincts demanded.
Shut the fuck up. I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight.
I started reading, catching on to the plot quickly. The heroine was a feisty brunette detective, out to solve a string of murders that she was certain the hero—a hundred-year-old vampire—had committed.