Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Emma,” Zohr whispers, his breathing ragged.
“Zohr, you scared the shit out of me.” I put a hand to my breast, willing my thudding heart to calm down. ”You’re up? What are you doing out of bed?”
“Emma,” he says again, drawling my name out. He moves closer to me and buries his face against my neck, inhaling deeply.
“Um, Zohr?” I pat his shoulder, and I realize just how burning hot his skin is. Still fevered. Oh no. He feels hotter than ever. “Let’s get you back into bed and I’ll cool you down, okay?” I sling the pack off my back and dump it by the door. “I’ll help you out.”
“Em-mah.” He murmurs my name aloud, and one big hand curls around my neck and cups the side of it. I feel the prick of claws against my skin and realize that he’s got claws in his human form. How did I never notice that before? Maybe I was distracted by all the golden skin and the horns nestled in his thick, tangled hair. Either way, I’m noticing them now.
I go still, waiting to see what he does. He could snap my neck in a heartbeat.
Zohr leans in and nuzzles my throat, rubbing his heated cheek against my skin. It’s like he’s trying to bathe in my scent. Maybe it helps him in his fever-madness. I touch my mind to his—or try to—but I get a lot of nonsense and garbled thoughts. He might as well be asleep for all that he’s there.
“Come on, Zohr,” I tell him soothingly. “Back to bed.” I slide my arm around his waist and lead him back toward the makeshift bed.
The sheet I have down on the floor is soaked and warm, possibly from sweat, possibly from the water I’m constantly drenching him in to cool down his skin. I switch it out with another fresh sheet that I have waiting nearby and then pat the linen. “Come lie down and I’ll bathe you.”
His eyes swirl bright gold, and instead of doing as I tell him, he tugs at the tiny, tight shirt I’m wearing, as if he wants me to be naked, too.
“Nice try,” I tell him with a small laugh. “But I just found this, so let’s not rip it.” I point at the bed and then take the large bowl into the kitchen for fresh water. I’m not entirely surprised that Zohr follows me. Maybe he needs company, even in his delirium. I send happy thoughts in his direction, along with reminders of cool water and fresh wet sheets to drape over his heated skin. Heck, the air’s so stifling that it sounds like a good idea to me, too.
He runs one super-heated hand along my arm as I fill up the bowl, inhaling and rubbing his nose against my hair. I ignore it as best I can, and when the bowl is full, I prop it up against my hip, put my arm around his waist, and try to lead him back to bed again. “Come on, Zohr. Let’s lie down and work on that fever, okay?”
The dragon-man leans heavily on me, and it takes all of my strength not to drop him—or the water I’ve got balanced on my hip. We half stagger back over to the sheets and I set the bowl down on an old end table, then gesture that he should lie down.
He slides his arms around me and pulls me against him. “Em-mah.”
It’s strange that he says my name differently than he has in my head. It’s more guttural, fiercer. Weird. I pat his side, careful to avoid his wounds. “On the ground, Zohr.”
His eyes get this strange gleam, and I feel a shiver move through my body. What’s he up to? He slides down to his knees and then pulls me against him once more. His arms wrap around my hips and he buries his face against my breasts, rubbing.
O-kayyyy. A delirious Zohr is apparently a horny Zohr. “You really need to sleep it off. You’re not yourself right now.”
The rumble low in his chest tells me that he doesn’t care. That he’s enjoying himself just fine. He rubs his face against my breasts again, and despite the layers of clothing, when I feel his nose skim over one nipple, I can’t help but gasp.
The arms around my waist tighten, and he looks up at me, his eyes whirling with rich gold. His nostrils flare, and I know what that means—he’s scenting me. More than that, he’s scenting my arousal.
“I like you,” I whisper to him. “I do. And I’m down with playing, I promise. We just need you to get better and then we can have sex as much as you like—”
His gaze slides from my face to my breasts. He stares at them thoughtfully, at the cartoon character adorning my front, and then reaches up, grabs a handful of the tightly-stretched fabric, and tears it from my body.