Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 13
A Hyhborn.
The Baron had sent me to the quarters of a freaking Hyhborn.
And not just any Hyhborn. Him.
Lord Thorne.
I grasped his forearm. My fingers met smooth, crisp linen. The hold on me was nothing like when Muriel had grabbed me, but it still caused panic to ripple through me.
“That’s not an answer,” Lord Thorne chided softly.
Then he moved.
In two steps, he had me pinned, my cheek plastered against the wall and my arms trapped. His strength was terrifying, sending my pulse into a frantic pace. I pushed back against him, trying to lower my feet to the floor. He pressed in, the full length of his body encaging mine.
“I suggest that you try again,” he said, his cheek grazing mine. “You’re getting a very rare, very generous offer. I suggest you don’t throw it away.”
“It’s me,” I said. “We’ve— ”
“I know it’s you,” he interrupted, and my eyes went wide. “But that doesn’t answer my questions, na’laa.”
It took me a heartbeat to remember. “I was sent to you.”
“By?” The arm at my waist shifted, and I felt his hand open along the side of my waist and his fingers press into the thin robe.
“Baron Huntington. He said you were expecting company.”
Lord Thorne went incredibly still behind me. I didn’t even feel his chest rise against my back. “I was expecting no one.”
My eyes slammed shut as anger boiled. Fucking Claude. Was he that high or drunk that he hadn’t thought to warn me that he was sending me to a Hyhborn lord and not a chancellor? Or to even prepare him for my arrival? If I didn’t end up dead tonight, I very well might kill Claude for this.
The hand above my chest moved— the same hand I’d seen incinerate a Hyhborn— and slid to the base of my throat. “And?”
I blinked, toes curling in the empty air. “And . . . what?”
His thumb and forefinger began to move along the sides of my throat in soft, almost . . . gentle sweeps. “And there is one more question, na’laa.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.
“But it’s still so fitting and I enjoy how annoyed you get when I call you it,” he murmured, and my mouth dropped open. “What’s your answer to my second question?”
One more question? What was he— Do you have a death wish? My lips peeled back as that anger flamed deep in me. “No, I don’t have a death wish.” What came out of my mouth next weren’t my wisest words. “But perhaps you do.”
“Me?” Those fingers still moved, creating a warm friction that was . . . that was oddly and distressingly soothing. “I’m curious as to how I have a death wish.”
“I’m a favorite of the Baron’s,” I said. “He would be most displeased if you were to break me.”
Lord Thorne was silent for what felt like a small eternity, and then he laughed. He actually laughed, and it was a deep, husky sound that reverberated through me much like that animalistic sound he’d made. “Well.” He drew the word out, those fingers stilling at my throat. “I wouldn’t want to displease the honorable baron.”
In any other situation, one where I wasn’t being held what had to be at least a foot off the ground, I would’ve appreciated the mockery dripping from his tone.
“I’m interested though. What would the Baron do?” The fingers slipped from my throat to just below the shallow indent between my collarbones. The feel of his touch there and the palm that rested just above my still wildly beating heart was a jolt to my already scattered senses. “If I did break a . . . favorite of his?”
My mouth opened but nothing came out. What could the Baron do if he decided to harm me? Even as a caelestia, there was absolutely nothing, which was why Claude sending me to the Hyhborn lord like this was so unbelievable.
“He would . . .” I sighed. “He would pout.”
That deep laugh came again, rumbling along my back and rear, causing my toes to curl even further. He was holding me entirely too close. “I wouldn’t want that to happen.”
Then Lord Thorne released me, but he did so slowly. Painstakingly slowly. I slid down the entire length of him, and it was a whole lot of length. I was uncomfortably aware of how the robe had snagged, catching between our bodies, and . . . and the feel of him. There was simply a lot of him. By the time my feet hit the floor, my legs were exposed all the way to the thighs. Luckily, the chamber was still dark, but not as fathomless as before.
“We keep meeting under the strangest circumstances,” he noted. “I’m beginning to think fate is afoot.”
“Fate?” I laughed. “You believe in fate?”
“You don’t?”
How could I when I knew that the future wasn’t always set in stone— that every decision, no matter how small or unimportant, could have a domino effect? “No.”