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)
“It’s not that,” he said. “My heart hasn’t beat in a long time, not as it would for a mortal.”
I opened my mouth, but I was at a loss as to how to respond to that— at the reminder of how different we were. Drawing in a soft breath, I shook my head as I slid my hand from his chest. I didn’t know why I said what I did next. The words sort of spilled out of me. “This is not what I always want to be,” I shared, and goodness, that was the truth if there ever was one. “This is not the future I planned as a child.”
The finger of his right hand began to tap idly along the rim once more. “What’s the future you planned?”
“I . . .” I had to really think about that. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice sounding small to my own ears.
“You said you had a plan, na’laa.”
Brow creasing, I shook my head. I had no idea why I’d even said what I had. I had no future planned beyond this day, this night. I couldn’t when living simply meant surviving to the next day or dreading what could come, which wasn’t really living at all. But that was all I knew. The same for more lowborn than not, even if they weren’t in my situation.
But Hyhborn— especially those like Prince Thorne— didn’t live that way. I knew that because even though I’d never entered their Courts, I saw their gold-tipped roofs hidden behind their fortified walls. I’d seen their richly tailored clothing, their well-bred horses and finely crafted coaches from a distance. I’d never heard of a starved Hyhborn or seen one with shadows of worry staining the skin beneath their eyes. Hell, you barely saw that in the face of a caelestia. I doubted any of them knew what it was like to sleep with mice scurrying over them or found themselves on the verge of death due to some sickness they’d picked up from poor living conditions.
But none of that mattered right now . . . or at all, it seemed, so I shoved those thoughts aside as I soaped up my hands again. “I like plants.”
His head tilted. “Come again?”
I cringed, thinking I could’ve said that a bit more eloquently. “I mean, I have always had an interest in plants— in gardening. I have a bit of a green thumb and basic knowledge of how many plants can be of aid. I know, a botanist is not the most lucrative of careers,” I rambled on. “But that would be a plan.”
“If it is something you enjoy then it is lucrative in a way that means more than coin.”
Said the person who obviously had more coin than they would ever need.
I wisely kept that to myself, though, and neither of us spoke for several moments. In the quiet, I took a moment to remind myself of what I was supposed to be doing, which was not touching him for the sake of doing so. I focused on him until all I saw was the expanse of sandy skin and all I felt was his flesh beneath mine. The wall of white light appeared in my mind. It was endless, one as tall as the sky and wide as the realm. In my mind, I saw my fingers brushing against it. Nothing happened as I brought my hands back up his chest and reached for the soap, noticing the faint glow around his shoulders.
He was feeding.
On my pleasure? I was enjoying this even though I couldn’t read a thing from him. Or was he feeding on his own pleasure— pleasure derived from my touch? I tried not to feel, well, special. Hyhborn were beings of pleasure. I didn’t think it mattered who they were with.
“Is that why you were taking such a late-night walk in the gardens?” Prince Thorne asked. “Your enjoyment of plants?”
“Yes. I find gardens to be . . .” I trailed off, searching for the right word.
“Peaceful?”
“Yes, but more than that.” The feeling of being in a garden or outside ran deeper than that. “It’s more like, I don’t know, being at . . . at home.”
His head turned slightly as he looked back at me, his expression unreadable.
“What?”
He gave a shake of his head. “Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Are you often in them late at night?”
“When I can’t sleep, yes.”
“And it’s safe for you to do that?”
“Usually,” I remarked. “Normally there aren’t Hyhborn fighting in them or ni’meres.”
The steam of the water dampened my skin, causing the sheer robe to cling to my body as I reached around him, washing the other side of his chest. I kept my eyes trained on what existed above the waterline. Which was difficult enough because his skin was fascinating. Did Hyhborn not grow hair anywhere but from their head? Man, that would be so convenient.