Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
My body responds in a way I can’t describe. I want to slam her against those rocks, move with her wave by wave. I want to devour her, drown her, hold my hands against her throat and see how far it takes me as I sink myself into her, and then I want to do it again and feel the earth shake beneath me. I want it to tremble under my skin as I dig my fingers into the rocks flicking them away like dust.
I strain against my zipper as a voice in my head whispers. “Do it…”
He would make me feel that way.
He would destroy it all if I kept her.
And I know how horrible it is, how damning it is to want. But to use? I can do that. I can use her until she’s done, until my purpose is finished, until her innocent, loving smile looks up at me only for me to find her eyes dead, her blood drained.
Her soul ours.
Yet theirs.
Always theirs.
My intense arousal begins to deflate.
I’m a monster. How did I go from something that shines down on humanity to one who destroys it? Part of me understands she’s an abomination the other part wants to give her a chance at redemption she doesn’t even know she needs. She’s in the dark and as the sun it physically hurts not to shed a bit of light, to give her a choice even though I know it’s futile.
I squeeze my eyes shut so I can’t see her.
Small hands tighten their grip on my cheeks. “Look at me.”
“Didn’t I tell you?” I whisper. Why the hell am I shaking? “To be careful?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” she responds with a silly grin, “I don’t follow rules very well?” She’s clearly drunk on whatever Enki gave her, but I like her answer more than I should because I know she’s extremely confined by those rules.
A slow burn ignites in my belly, spreads until my blood is boiling—maybe literally. I lean in, pressing my body against hers. “Prove it.”
Her eyes widen. “What does that mean?”
I pick her up and slowly carry her to the guest house and into her room. “It means…” I take one step, two. “…that you need to go to sleep. Right now you’re feeling brave. You won’t later, and I’m sorry for that. I truly am.”
“I’m brave.” She yawns.
I nod. “One day. One day you will be. One day you’ll choose to be because the choice will have already been stripped from you.”
Her frown guts me as I set her in her room. The cat is on her bed waiting for her.
“Take good care of her,” I whisper into the air, knowing that the little shit will, he’s obsessed with her already.
Things aren’t going as planned if even the cat has a stupid attachment. Then again, he’s lonely, has been for a great while. He always says it’s because he’s waiting.
But for what?
We know the end of my trials are here.
We know the risks.
We know the ending just like the beginning.
Her eyes are already closing as I lay her against the stark white sheets.
I tuck the blankets around her while Bast moves closer to me.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “Just let me have this moment.”
What was once lust is now a perpetual sadness; one I feel so deeply I can’t breathe.
I attempt to inhale and exhale, but nothing comes.
I’m nothingness.
I exist for what?
Fury. No mercy.
My own power.
I squeeze my eyes shut so I can’t see her doom. So I can’t see the clock ticking second by second. I’m reminded why I’ve chosen not to have emotions, why I shut myself off, why I made that original sacrifice for the greater good, so why is it now?
Why?
When I press a soft kiss to her forehead, I see them, the visions of laughter with her mom before. Visions of her brother protecting her. And then loneliness. Why are the stories all the same? And why does it always feel like it’s our fault?
Maybe because it is.
All of ours.
But to do anything else would mean the end, and every single one of them has the potential to bring it, to become the Destroyer, even this soul lying here with a drunken smile on her face.
I lie down next to her, and I pretend. Her breaths are heavy, even. I reach for her hand, and I pretend it’s normal, that lying next to a woman, my lover, is normal. That we’ll wake up, maybe argue over breakfast and coffee, then get ready for the day.
I can see it in my mind’s eye, the way it would play out. She’d kiss me at the end of the day, maybe throw things at me for being stubborn and arrogant. My fists clench as my fingers dig into the sheets.
I see her pregnant.
I see so many possibilities.