Total pages in book: 295
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Throat working, I struggle to relax, to calm my heart and change my breathing in hopes of waking myself up. But it’s only my mind that knows this isn’t real. My body is very much locked into the illusion.
“You can only hunt me to the wards,” I croak.
“Yet you sleep beyond them.” A grotesque smile tilts his cracked mouth. “And the longest night has yet to pass.” He reaches for a poison-tipped dagger—
I blink, my heart slamming against my ribs for the second it takes for me to shed the vivid nightmare and recognize my surroundings.
This isn’t a wind-torn field or a cold, blood-soaked cell in Basgiath—it’s Xaden’s light-filled bedroom in Aretia. Big windows, thick velvet drapes, wall-to-wall bookshelves, massive bed. I’m safe. Varrish isn’t waiting on the other side of the door to break me again because he’s dead. I killed him.
I’m still alive.
For the first time in days, there’s no pain when I breathe in, or when I stretch under the thick down comforter, or even when I twist away from the sun-drenched window to face Xaden.
Now, this is a view I could be more than happy to wake up to for the rest of my life.
He’s asleep on his stomach, his arms folded under his pillow, his hair falling over his forehead, his perfectly sculpted lips parted slightly. The covers only rise to the small of his back, leaving me with miles of inked skin to admire. I almost never get to see him like this, never get to simply look at him, and I take advantage of every single second, studying the angles of his muscled arm, up to his rounded shoulder, and across the faint silver of the lines that mark his back. He’s always more than enough to elevate my pulse, but asleep and fully unguarded, he steals my breath.
Gods is he beautiful.
And he loves me.
The black fabric of my thin-strapped nightgown bunches slightly as I shift up onto my knees, and the comforter falls away when I reach for him. I trace the silver scars with my fingertips and don’t bother counting the lines. There are a hundred and seven of them, representative of the marked ones he took responsibility for to give them a chance at life in the quadrant.
For all that he says he isn’t soft, isn’t kind, he’s also the only man I know whose back is covered in promises made for other people. Even if his reasoning was preparing for this war we’re about to wage, he still risked his own life by vouching for them.
He risked his life to free me. Dain and I never would have made it out of there alive without him.
Alive. I’m alive.
And that’s exactly how I want to feel.
I lean forward and press my lips to his warm skin, kissing the scar closest to me, wishing I could undo the damage my mother did to him.
“Mmm. Violet.” His sleep-rough voice makes my lips curve and my blood heat. His muscles ripple as he stirs awake, and I take my time, kissing a slow path up the expanse of his back.
He inhales sharply, his arms tensing when I reach the place his neck meets his shoulder. Rolling, he flips to his back and pulls me astride in one smooth motion.
“Good morning.” I smile, settling my hips over his. My breath catches at the feel of him beneath me, hard and ready.
“I could get used to waking up like this.” He looks at me with a hunger that mirrors my own, and his hand slides from my hip, over the curve of my waist, and up between the peaks of my breasts to cup the side of my neck gently, carefully.
“Me too.” My pulse quickens as I lean down and set my lips to his throat. “But we shouldn’t get used to it,” I tell him between kisses, working my way to his chest. “They’ll probably put me with the other cadets tonight.”
Last night, this had been the most private place for Brennan to mend me, and I’d wanted to sleep next to Xaden too badly to argue against his suggestion of staying after I’d finally gotten the chance to bathe.
“This is my house.” He spears his fingers into my hair, his other hand flexing on my hip when I ghost my lips over the three-inch scar above his heart. “And I sleep where you sleep, which is preferably in this very large, very comfortable bed. You should still be sleeping.”
I slide down his body, my hands roaming and stroking as I kiss every ridge of the incredible abdominals that tighten beneath my mouth. His eyes are my favorite part of him, but damn if the chiseled line above his hip that disappears into his waistband isn’t a close second. I follow it with my tongue.