Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
It was nice. That ease. The naturalness of being in his arms while having the mundane conversations. Though getting to know him was, and never would be, mundane.
I glanced up at him. “All the walls? Why?”
He kissed my head. “Told you, baby. I don’t like cages. Not for you. Not for me. Need open. Need space. Apart from with one thing in my life. Then space is the last thing I need. Or ever want.”
He squeezed me and I melted a little more at his meaning, But I wasn’t ready to be a puddle at his feet just yet. It was nice, talking.
“Space,” I repeated. “From the army?”
He nodded once. “Always in a fuckin’ box. Tiny rooms, beds, spaces. And the ever-present box of a coffin that was waiting for you at any moment.” His eyes went faraway. “So yeah, space.” Then his eyes darkened. “But I’m not craving space right now. Check that—I’m craving the tightest most delicious space I’ve ever been in.”
And with that, most talking for the night was lost.
We had a lot of time to make up for, after all.
Which was why I’d slept in. And Keltan had too. Strange for the man who was usually up at dawn. He must have been exhausted too. I forgot how hard he must work. For someone who only drank one coffee a day, I didn’t know how he did it.
And I knew he had a belly button too; I’d done the research the night before while paying attention to his carved six-pack. He was human, just not any ordinary one.
Keltan’s heat at my side, plus the smell of what he was holding, distracted me from those thoughts and from scraping the entirety of my handbag back into its home, so I just got the essentials.
His orderly apartment could handle some of my chaos. It looked right there.
“Yes,” I breathed, eyes on the steaming mug he was holding out to me before snatching it.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “What do I have to do to get you to look at me like that?”
I gulped the first sip, regarding his sparkling eyes over the top of the mug. Then I moved down to his shirtless body, ridges of abs and the V pointing down to the goods, which were unfortunately covered by low-slung sweats. My eyes moved back up at a leisurely pace, sipping the coffee.
“Well, make you drinkable, and delightful, and able to make me a functional human being,” I answered.
Keltan’s eyes darkened as he stepped forward, taking the coffee—that I’d only had two sips of—from my hand.
“I can do all of those things, baby,” he murmured. “And the way you just looked at me makes me think I’ve got a chance over caffeinated beverages after all.” He was leaning forward so his lips pressed against mine as he spoke.
My stomach dipped deliciously, and all thoughts of meetings and general responsibility that didn’t include Keltan melted away.
“I was holding a caffeinated beverage,” I argued, my voice breathy. “Which you have taken away from me.”
He smiled against my lips, setting down the coffee. “That’s because I’m going to make my case for being all the things you listed coffee as being,” he growled.
I leaned into him, so ready for that too. That was until his eyes focused on the table where he’d just put the coffee. Or more accurately, the glint of silver that caught in the morning sunlight.
Then the air changed, the sparkling glint in his eyes disappearing. He stepped back, snatching something off the table in a violent gesture.
“What the fuck is this?” he half snarled at me.
I blinked at the change in the mood. Then I focused on the small owl that was clutched so tightly in his hands, his knuckles were white.
“Um, it’s an owl,” I told him. “Or the representation of one. I’m guessing you don’t like owls?”
He didn’t smile. In fact, fury spread to every part of him. “Where the fuck did you get this?” he demanded, stepping forward and clutching my hip tightly.
I clenched my teeth. “Keltan, you’re hurting me,” I told him, more shocked than anything at the gesture.
He flinched at my words, glancing down at his hand as if it was a foreign object. Then his hand left my hip, but he stayed in my presence. “Lucy, where did you get this?” he repeated quieter. But there was no calm in the quiet.
“I didn’t get it anywhere,” I told him, extremely confused but not exactly afraid. An owl was just a mighty strange thing to get this worked up about. “It was on my desk the other day. I must have put it in my bag—”
“Jesus, fuck!” he roared, interrupting me and making me jump as the figurine went flying through the air and hit his wall with a clambering echo as he threw it with all his strength.