Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Her gaze went to her wrist.
No metal bracelet. Only a welt where the material must’ve scraped her skin when she tore it off. She’d have to make it stronger next time, she thought dully. Strong enough that even the stolen power of a 9 couldn’t tear it off. And she had to ramp up the intensity.
Because it had activated right after the rage hit—she’d frozen at the painful jolt, her senses attempting to realign into sanity. Then her brother’s power had poured into her in an endless wave, burning away the cold iron of control and leaving only rage in its wake.
Theo? Pax’s voice in her mind, as if he’d sensed her thoughts. I felt the power draw. Did you have an episode?
Yes. But I’m fine. Lying in an effort to protect him was instinct. Are you?
Yes. Do you need help?
No. She didn’t tell him that she wasn’t by herself, didn’t even want to acknowledge the humiliation of it. I need to be alone in my head right now.
Pax withdrew without further questions. He knew about her episodes not only because he sensed it when her mind began to siphon his power, but because their grandfather had made him watch the recordings of her in the worst of the rages. It had been a brutal slap to Pax’s request for information about Theo.
Pax had never told her, but she could imagine what their grandfather had said to him at the time. Your sister is an unstable liability. Look at her! Pathetic!
Flinching inwardly, Theo tried to take her mind elsewhere, but there was no disassociation, not here, not now. Everything was too sharp, too bright, too real to escape. Yakov, this bear who had touched her with such tenderness that night, yet held her tight. She didn’t blame him. She had no idea what she’d done to him in the midst of the vast blackness that had sporadically swamped her brain since she was sixteen years of age.
“You were born defective,” her grandfather had told her after she almost killed Colette by accident. “That is the true reason why you had to be separated from your brother. Do you understand now? You could’ve killed him.”
Theo had wanted to argue that she would never hurt her twin, had stayed silent because it would’ve been a lie. She had no awareness of the world in the midst of the rage storms created by her broken brain.
“I’m going to let go,” Yakov said, slowly following words with action.
She felt cold, so cold as he unwrapped his arms from around her, but she forced herself to move away. He couldn’t want to be near her, and the least she could do was give him his wish. Tugging down the rucked-up bottom of her short dress, she kept her back to him as she stared down at the carpet, her hair hanging around her in a curtain.
“I apologize.” Her throat felt raw, lined with crushed stone. “Did I hurt you?”
“I’m a bear,” he said roughly, and then he was moving to come down on his knees in front of her.
She flinched when he lifted a hand and slid it over her cheek and slightly over the back of her head to cup the side of her face. But she didn’t push him away, and she didn’t tell him to not touch her. He deserved whatever pound of flesh he wanted from her.
“Show me that beautiful face, pchelka,” he murmured in a coaxing tone. “I’m pretty sure you took a hit with a flying object.”
Lost, shattered, she didn’t resist when he tilted up her chin. But she couldn’t look him in the eye, instead looking over his shoulder at the wall she’d marked up and dented in her rage. “I’ll pay to have the damage fixed.” Fast, rough words. “I have the money. I can pay to fix it.”
Too bad she couldn’t do that for her own brain.
Ignoring her statement as if she hadn’t spoken, Yakov said, “Some bruising on your left cheekbone, but it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”
Still unable to meet his gaze, she turned her head to check the rest of the apartment—but never got there, her gaze snagging on the bite marks on his biceps. Bile burned her throat. This was her fault. Even knowing what she was, she’d allowed him to bring her here, to this place that should’ve been a safe haven for him.
How selfish could she be?
“I’m sorry, Yasha,” she whispered, staring at the deep indentation of her teeth. “I am so sorry.” Her voice threatened to break.
“Hey,” he said, and waited.
Stomach churning, hurting, she met his eyes at last. Wild amber with a yellowish cast, of the bear that lived under his skin, those beautiful eyes held no disgust or anger. Unable to endure the hope that spawned in her, she scanned his face, his body, her gaze once more hitching on the bite marks on his arm.