Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
When I lean back, I can see her cheeks are fully flushed now. She clears her throat and looks over at the bed, then back to me.
“I’ll go get you some water and let you get undressed. I’m afraid we’re going to have to share the bed.” I release the door frame.
If she doesn’t like the idea of getting into bed with me, she doesn’t protest the situation. She only nods as I reluctantly push away from the frame and go into the kitchen to get her a glass of water and try to get myself under control. I concentrate on the task to get my dick to go down, but it doesn't listen to me. It hasn’t been listening since I found her again. She’s the only person to ever draw his attention.
On my way, I chastise myself for being so forward with her. I don’t want to push her too fast, but already I’m telling her she’s going to sleep in my bed tonight. With me in it. Fuck, why am I thinking with my dick? There’s so much at stake right now, and I can’t chance fucking this up. Not only can we use her in the Insurgence, but she’s my destiny. She’s the one I’ve been trying to find for more years than I care to count. And now that I’ve got her in my grasp, I need to be careful with her delicate wings.
I take a drink of water and steel myself. I don’t plan on getting much sleep tonight, but I won’t take her. Not yet. She’ll be bred soon enough, binding her to me in every way, but tonight I’ll give her peace. I make no promises come morning, but right now, I’ll rest easy knowing my love has finally come into my arms.
Chapter Four
Minnie
I watch Owen as he interacts with the kids. He’s so patient and kind. The children hang on his every word. Heck, so do I. I have been here for a few days and have never felt more at ease in my life. I’m also not as lonely as when I’m in my tiny apartment. Being able to openly talk about what I’m feeling without being scared that it could get me in trouble is freeing. It has only been a few days and already I know Owen was right. I’m already starting to feel a little freer each second I’m by his side.
I pack up snacks for the children to bring with them when Owen is done teaching them today. Right now he’s sparring with them. I don’t care for the idea of children fighting, but Owen reminds me it’s for protection. That everyone should know how to protect themselves.
As If sensing my stare, he looks over at me and gives me a wink. That small gesture goes straight to my core.
Everything he does seems to do that to me. I can’t stop staring at him, wanting to touch him. Lying in bed with him each night is bittersweet. I’ve never felt so safe or slept more soundly than I have with him by my side. I should’ve been terrified that first night, but I wasn’t.
I jumped into bed with a man I didn’t know, but for some reason it felt like I knew him. I felt deep down that I was safe with him. That he’d never hurt me. That he'd hurt himself before he’d ever let something happen to me.
The man might be a giant and a little scary looking at times, but seeing him with the children only deepens this longing I feel for him. It’s easy to tell he’s a man of authority. When he speaks people listen. He’s stern but understanding, and that’s what makes a good teacher. Although to be fair, he looks more like a warrior.
While he doesn’t agree with some of the things I say, he listens to my reasoning. At times I feel like I might be teaching him, too. My soft approach to the world brushing against his hard one, maybe finding a way to make both ways come together. I see reason to some of the things he believes and I can tell from his eyes when I talk he feels the same thing about some of the things I say.
“All right, kids. Grab your bags. You have your assignments,” he tells them. They rush over to the bags Owen set up this morning. I added some food to them and then I noticed notes in the bottom of the bags. Maybe they’re their assignments.
“Miss Minnie, are you Owen’s wife?” one of the little boys asks, looking up at me. He can’t be more than ten years old.
I blush. Owen walks over to me, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me into him. The action takes me by surprise. It’s not the first time he’s touched me. Light brushes have lingered when we pass one another. And let’s not forget about how each morning we wake wrapped around each other. No matter how hard I try to stay on my side of the bed, we always end up in the center.