Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I swallow hard. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because it seems that something went sideways during your childhood, and I’m sorry for it.”
She’s not apologizing for what she did to my mother. She doesn’t even know that the former leader of this territory was my mother. Still, the words echo through me. I’m sorry for it. I swallow past my suddenly dry throat. “You’re better than Allecto on the mat. Surely you had to start training at thirteen to get that good.”
“Aurora, I’m forty-one.” She gives a small smile. “Even if I didn’t see the inside of a studio before high school, I’ve still had more than enough years to become proficient at any number of things.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t.” She rises slowly to her feet and tugs me up with her. “We give our children free rein, yes, but they start combat training as soon as they can walk.” My shock must show, because she shrugs. “Part of the way we settle disputes with the other factions in Sabine Valley is ritual combat during the feast of Lammas. It’s important that every one of our people can hold their own, should it ever come to that.”
I don’t know much about the pagan feasts beyond roughly when they are in the year, but even I can connect the dots. Lammas is at the beginning of August, which means it passed not too long ago. “So if Lammas is the ritual combat feast, what are the other ones?.”
“Lammas is more than ritual combat. That’s just the part everyone talks about because it’s flashy.” She leads the way down the hall toward her playroom. “Samhain is a sober feast where we honor our dead and fallen throughout the year. Everyone gets drunk and poetic and forgets we’re all enemies. Imbolc is usually when marriages and alliances and various agreements are forged. Everyone celebrates together.” Her lips curve. “And Beltane is a night when there are no factions, no enemies, nothing to hold anyone back from pursuing the pleasure they crave with whomever they please.”
It sounds like something out of a fantasy novel. I knew they followed strange paths in Sabine Valley, but I didn’t realize how strange. She mentioned a bit last night, but it doesn’t feel any less strange now. “Oh.”
“Let’s not talk about painful things anymore.” She opens the door and heads for the large cabinet that contains her plethora of toys. “I’d rather focus on pleasure.”
Malone opens the wardrobe and trails her fingers over her rainbow of strap-ons. They range from average size, if funky shapes, to downright ruinous. My gaze lands on the red one at the end—it’s shaped like a fist and is damn close to life-sized. I shiver. “Do I get to pick?”
She snorts. “No.”
I didn’t think I would. I don’t really want to. The lines have blurred, and the rules I was so sure were unable to bend no longer seem to be in effect. Better to experience the sharp edge of desire, to reestablish those careful boundary lines, than to give in to the strange emotions in my chest. The soft emotions in my chest.
The timer in the kitchen dings, and Malone strokes her hand down my spine. “Let’s eat.”
How can she show me this preview for the night and expect me to be able to concentrate on dinner? Except that’s not what she expects, I realize as I follow her out of the room. This is the appetizer for what comes after the meal. For dessert.
The dining room is smaller than I expected, just large enough for a table capable of seating four. It’s appointed as lavishly as the rest of the penthouse, but I get the feeling that it’s rarely used. It’s a little too pristine, though I don’t know what gives me that impression when everything else is equally pristine. It’s just a feeling.
Malone sets down her wine and motions for me to take a seat. “A moment.”
It’s not until I obey that I realize how wrong this feels. She shouldn’t be waiting on me, though that’s not what this is. It’s her taking care of me.
That traitorous warmth springs to life again. It doesn’t mean anything. It can’t mean anything. No matter what else is true, I simply cannot fall for Malone. It’s bad enough that my revenge slipped so easily through my fingers; half my life spent wanting to hurt her the way she’s hurt me, and the moment I get a chance to put all that pain and sorrow into action, I flounder.
But falling for her?
It would be a failure on an entirely different level. It would paint me in the ugliest of tones, would turn me traitor to the mother who lost everything, to the grandmother who sacrificed so much to ensure I was safe. Surely I can’t be that weak, that horrible?