Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“What language is that?” Cameron curiously inquires, green gaze planted on the being she is mistakenly believing to be her mother.
“Olatinrc.”
She snaps her attention up to me. “That’s not a real language.”
“Not to a Sleeper.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” Her thick, dark eyebrows dart down in disapproval. “And why is there such a disdain in your tone when you do, Mr. Draak? Is that because you are harboring an overly negative or perhaps unpopular and extremely bias opinion regarding them? And what exactly is a Sleeper so to speak? And-”
“Do you want a mint?”
The off-the-wall interruption startles us both.
Fuck, why did I say that shit?!
Mate.
Not. Now. Dragonhole.
“Excuse me?!” Her voice booms in tandem with the walls being shook in outrage by the trapped black-haired brute.
“Do you want…like a…,” my hands mime stroking my neck area, unexpectedly longing to be able to do it to hers, “for your…” The movement mindlessly continues while my eyes caress the compact area that I’m drawn to nestle and nip and grip as my own. “…or your…” One gentle tap at the base of my throat is given to convey what it is I’m evidently incapable of communicating.
What in the actual D is wrong with me right now?!
Mate.
No, that’s what’s wrong with you, not me.
“Are you having a stroke?” Cameron politely asks, stare shifting to one of skepticism. “Do you need medical assistance provided? Are you aware if that is indeed the case that company policy states you are entitled to the best treatment at the nearest hospital to avoid a liability suit?”
Truxxton Traainer, the hippo shifter standing nearest the control panel in the underground facility we’re currently occupying, poorly hides his chuckle prompting me to unhappily bark, “Hit her with another dose of gas!”
The command is met with a single nod that causes his manbun to bob. “Yes, sir.”
“More poison?!” the short female croaks in concern.
“It isn’t poison. It’s a mood stabilizer.”
“Semantics, Mr. Draak.”
“Details, Miss Pennington.”
“Is giving my mother-”
“Not your mother.”
“-more drugs of any kind really necessary?”
Another aggressive roar is ripped from the female orc’s chest at the same time she violently kicks the glass.
“It’s not, not necessary.”
She twitches me a glare that threatens to get my cock thumping.
Okay.
Seriously.
What in the fuck is going on with me today?
Why am I so cheeky?
Why am I so cocky?
Why am I so contentious just for the sake of contention?
I mean I haven’t been this anxious to smash someone’s button since that thing with the Pegasus bartender out in Vegas.
Mate.
You’re just gonna keep throwing that shit out there until that’s the correct answer, aren’t you?
No.
I don’t believe you.
So.
His rebuttal has me folding my arms defensively across my chest as I watch the room fill with another blast of the sedative intended to soothe her into a state of being able to speak without barbarically yelling.
Assuming that’s possible.
Cameron’s voice struggles not to crack, “How much more of that can she take, Mr. Draak?”
Her question drifts my stare back down just in time to see a quiver occur in her neck.
That shouldn’t be there.
I damn sure shouldn’t be the one to be putting it there.
No.
All of a sudden, guilt churns my stomach.
Shrinks my frame.
Pushes me to move just a bit closer.
Comfort.
“She’s okay,” I quietly reassure, finding relief myself when she lets our eyes lock once more. “She’s the type of being with extraordinary strength and almost impossibly high resistance to numerous toxins. The one I’m currently having Truxxton fill the room with isn’t used for harm. It’s used to assist creatures in reaching a state of relaxation.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“He’s going to keep pumping it in there until she’s calm enough to communicate, but please, know that I won’t give her more than I have to, Cameron.” More worry seems to float off her bare shoulders, which encourages me to promise, “You have my word on that.”
For the first time since she barged into my office, I’m presented with an adoring smile.
Wow.
So, that’s what that looks like.
An unpredicted pounding from inside my chest has me tensing in further surprise.
And that’s what that feels like.
Mate.
I don’t know about that shit, but I’ll openly admit, I can understand how you are reaching that conclusion. Especially now that I’ve seen her look at me like I’m capable of giving her the world rather than just burning it all down.
The faintest green hue hits her cheeks in a blushing fashion forcing her to look away.
No.
That couldn’t have been green.
There’s no fucking way possible that I saw green.
Because if I did see even a hint of green then that means she is at least a half-orc and the imprisoned female being that I am steadily pumping drugs into really is her mother, which then makes me the world’s biggest dragonhole for having her watch the process rather than shield her.
Yes.
And for that comment, you can get fucked and stay fucked, Platinum.