Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“Not my god. Not anymore.” Belladonna shakes a little but nods. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Of course.” Later, I’ll pause to consider the implication in her words, to allow myself to hope that her changed belief is true. Right now, I need to deal with Eve. “Stay as long as you like. One of my people will escort you to the portal when you’re ready to go.”
I move out of the room as quickly as I can without running. Despite it having only been a minute or two, Eve has made good progress. Or at least she started that way. As I close in on her location, she weaves drunkenly to the wall and uses her hands to “walk” along it.
“You’re acting ridiculous,” I snarl. I sweep her into my arms without missing a step, ignoring her cursing protest. “You can barely walk, so I’ll carry you.”
“I hate you.” She swallows the dregs of Belladonna’s wine and drops the cup to bounce along on the floor behind us. Three glasses would be enough to knock her on her ass if they were stretched out over the course of an evening. To have downed them in less than fifteen minutes means she’s well on her way to passing out.
“I’m aware,” I snap. Even as I speak, I curse myself for letting my frustration take hold. She has every right to be angry with me. Just because I love Eve doesn’t mean I’m entitled to a single thing from her.
The effects of the alcohol continue to sweep over her as I climb the stairs toward her room. Her body goes loose, and her head lolls against my chest. “You weren’t there,” she whispers.
I almost miss a step. I don’t have to ask what she means. I already know. “I didn’t think you’d want me there.”
“Liar. Again. Even though you said you’d stop.” She wags a finger in front of my face, her words slurring dangerously. “You felt it too.” Her eyes drift closed. “I know you . . .”
I frown down at her. “Eve?”
No answer. I stop short, suddenly sure that she’s dead. A foolish, irrational thought. She drank enough to get drunk, but nowhere near enough to be truly dangerous. Even so, when I reach the landing at the top of the stairs, I hesitate before finally saying, “My room.”
The castle makes me work for it. Apparently it’s angry at me too.
By the time it allows me to reach my room, I’m too exhausted to worry about the implications of bringing her to my bed instead of her own. I could pretend it’s to ensure she stays safe through the night, but the truth is much more vulnerable.
I want her close to me. No matter the consequences.
CHAPTER 13
EVE
Ithought waking up in Azazel’s bed alone was the worst feeling. I was wrong. Waking up next to him is. The hangover doesn’t help—my head is filled with throbbing razor blades—but it’s the steady sound of his breathing that has me fighting not to scramble away.
Maybe it would have been less horrible if he were touching me, if I could explain away my reaction as anything other than emotional. Instead, he’s a perfectly polite distance away, stretched out on his stomach, his face tucked against the bend of his arm. What little I can see of his expression is perfectly relaxed.
He looks like an entirely different person.
The temptation to reach out and run my hand over his muscular back is nearly overwhelming. That way lies danger, and I want to pretend I’m too wary to fall into the trap of caring for him, but yesterday more than proves me a liar.
It would be so easy to simply . . . give in. To let his presence seduce me as thoroughly as his touch has. To let him protect me, cage me, set me up in this new life so far from my normal one. To be whisked away by him choosing me. That’s how magnetic he is, how much I still want him despite my anger.
“You’re staring,” he says without opening his eyes.
The urge to bolt from the bed rises, but I can’t quite work up the energy. I roll onto my side and pull his soft comforter up to my chin. The move reminds me that I’m still wearing the dress from last night, which is absolutely absurd. Azazel has had his mouth all over every inch of me, but he apparently drew the line at changing my clothing while I was drunk and passing out. I don’t want that realization to make me like him more. I truly don’t.
“Why?”
He cracks open one eye. “Why what?”
“Why has Brosh decided that killing me is the answer? If he doesn’t like how things are going in the territory, why not try to take it for himself?” Asking the question is dangerous. I’m already buckling for him without understanding his motives. I still want to know.