Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Surely the Astra’s fault.
Feeling petty, she unscrewed a bulb from the light fixture and tossed it at Roux’s door. Glass shattered, jagged shards exploding in every direction.
In a blink, the Astra opened the block and scanned the area. Left, right. He frowned.
“On your way to the gym, Astra?” she asked with a smooth tone. He wore a pair of workout shorts that hung low on his lean waist. No shirt or shoes. “Gotta keep those muscles bulging, huh?”
He glanced up. Though zero emotion emanated from him, he seemed to sigh. “I understand your fury with me.” His patient tone pricked her nerves. “I took someone you valued and—”
“You took someone I cherished,” she corrected. “Laban was a father and a consort. You, like all Astra, are nothing but death walking.”
Roux tossed up his arms, as if exasperated. Still his features remained impassive. “How was I to know the manticore was special and not to be decapitated? He wasn’t wearing a sign.”
A new bomb of hatred exploded inside Blythe. She materialized in front of him, met his gaze—and extracted another kidney.
“Three.” Giving him a saccharine grin, she dropped the organ at his feet. “Gotta admit, I’m really looking forward to taking number four.”
With a huff, he slammed the door in her face.
“The conversation is on pause then?” she called.
* * *
Early the next morning, Roux flashed to the trinite wall he and the other Astra had transferred to Harpina on the day of their invasion. The empty upper room located within his section, to be exact.
He peered out a large paneless window overlooking his assigned section of the marketplace. The very spot he’d first materialized. A violent storm brewed in the dark, gloomy sky. Cold wind blew in, the perfect complement to his troubled mind and its never-ending spinning wheel of irritations.
Blythe wouldn’t dare appear here at least. As a phantom, she weakened in the presence of trinite. As a harpy, she would never approach a foe in a weakened condition. Meaning, he could steal a few moments for himself and think. Perhaps even puzzle out an answer to a series of questions he couldn’t shake.
Namely, why did he seek her forgiveness for killing a male who’d chosen to challenge him? Why did he wish she...liked him?
Why did he care about her feelings at all? She—stepped from thin air, mere feet away, and rested a shoulder against the wall while munching on a candy bar, total nonchalance.
He ground his teeth.
Roux didn’t attempt to protect his vital organs. No, he was too busy cataloguing her every detail. Hair brushed to a shine and curling at the ends. Eyes like blue ice. No. Wrong. Eyes like onyx again. Cheeks pink with health. Or fury. The official harpy uniform clung to her curves: a metal breastplate with two intriguing cups, and a short, pleated skirt. Arm and shin bands adorned her, strapping a wealth of daggers to her limbs.
“Whatcha doing?” she asked. “Is Roux busy ruing the day he was born yet?”
Why not tell her the truth? “I’m contemplating what to do about you.”
Far from cowed by the threat, she took another bite of her treat. “Have you tried tattle-telling to the General? Or dying for good? Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s the winner.”
“I can stop you on my own.” But had he? Nooo. Some foolish part of him liked dealing with her. The very crux of his problem.
“Oookay. Sure you can,” she said, making a lewd motion with her free hand. She finished off the chocolate, tossed the empty wrapper on the floor, and wiped her hands together. “I no longer enjoy my sweets, by the way. Another crime to lay at your door.”
He leaned toward her. She just... She smelled so nice. And she moved with such grace. An unexpected coil of heat circulated through his veins, a sensation as wonderful as it was terrible. His bones burned, his muscles like slabs of steel molded in a forge.
I don’t know if you can handle the heat.
“What do you think you can do to me?” Head back, menace clear, he invaded her personal space. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m bigger, stronger, meaner, and far more powerful than you.”
Far from intimidated, she lifted a hand and ghosted her fingers along his jaw, never actually touching him as she softly proclaimed, “Astra, I’m going to make you suffer in ways you never dreamed possible.”
He’d taught himself not to flinch when someone reached for him. For the first time, however, he had to stop himself from seeking further contact. What did she feel like?
He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. What did the feel of her matter?
At least he thought he knew why she affected him like this. Blythe reminded him of his father’s favorite mistress. A deranged ballet dancer who’d giggled and twirled about as Mars inflicted unspeakable agonies upon him. The only part of Roux’s childhood with a positive association. Anytime he’d focused on the gracefulness of the female’s motions, he’d almost forgotten his pain.