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)
He didn’t deign to respond.
“Tomorrow,” the Amazon piped up, pausing in the doorway to glance at him, “someone will collect you at sunrise and escort you to the opening ceremony.”
Opening ceremony. The moment his truce with Blythe ended.
He nodded. “I’ll be ready.”
15
THE SURPRISE
“Come.” Roux extended his hand to Blythe as soon as they were alone in the conference room. “I will feed you.”
She reciprocated, linking their fingers without thought. Thought came after. Dang him! His newfound charm had to stop. Roux, with his tragic past, sexy-rough features, and desperate passions was nothing to her. Less than nothing. That hadn’t changed and wouldn’t. Ever. But she didn’t let him go. Not yet.
“Where are we going?” she grumbled.
“A village we passed when I carried you to the palace.”
He transported her to a clearing with ancient fae-type beings scattered about. Eleven of them, to be exact. They ranged from the palest white to the most flawless black, with hair in every shade imaginable. All wore dresses made of leaves and flower petals. They flittered about, either gardening or cooking.
The scent of roasting vegetables coated a cool breeze, and her mouth watered.
“Not the sandwich you requested, but food,” Roux said, sounding proud of himself.
Ugh. Why was even that charming?
Noticing the enormous male in their midst, a fae shrieked. “He’s back!”
The others shrieked as well, practically stampeding each other to race off. Dude. “They are not your biggest fans.”
“No. They are the first of the fae-nymphs,” Roux explained, resignation replacing his pride. “Mars filled his harem with them. By force. To escape him for good, they came here.”
Her chest clenched. Roux had been a victim of the god too, yet he garnered the same reaction as his perpetrator. Perhaps another reason he’d always despised being touched. He’d never known if someone reacted to him or his father.
The clenching worsened as the Astra led her forward. They’d never let go of the other’s hand, she realized with a start.
He stopped near a pot of simmering soup, clasped her by the waist, and hefted her onto a waist-high tree stump, putting them face-to-face. Their gaze caught for a moment. His attention dropped to her mouth before he got busy filling two clay bowls with the rich, creamy potage. One for her, one for him.
“Thank you,” she said softly. Trying to tune him out and gain control of her emotions, she dug in with a small wooden spoon. Mmm. Tasty. “Four and a half stars. Will eat here again.”
“If nothing else, I can satisfy this hunger,” he muttered.
Seriously! Did he have to be so charming? “You know, I can so snag an organ from you right this second, yes? Probably two. Or more. Let me enjoy my meal in peace.” And maybe sneak a conversation with one of the fae-nymphs and get a message to Penelope. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
“Lyla, you may take any organ at any time.” The heat in his eyes said what he didn’t. I’ve never forgotten. It’s foreplay.
She squirmed atop her stump. They finished the soup in charged silence.
“More?” he asked. “Dessert?”
“No thanks.” Now probably wasn’t the best time to indulge in a vice.
He placed their dishes in a basket partially filled with dirty utensils, then turned to help her down. As if she wasn’t a harpy in her prime, well able to hop off a perch, she waited to accept his assistance.
He clasped her waist, lifted her, and slid her down his body. Slowly. Tendrils of pleasure uncoiled. Her feet reached the ground, but she didn’t remove her hands from his shoulders. For balance. She breathed in the intoxicating aroma of cedarwood and spiced oranges, her head fogging.
Maybe she could indulge this vice instead?
“Is there something you’d like to do to me, Lyla?”
The low, rough quality of his voice caressed her ears, and she shivered. “I’ve already touched you today,” she stated, panting a little.
“I believe I’ve mentioned I’m good with doubling up.” His gaze dropped to her mouth again. “I have no limits with you.”
No limits. Because she was special. She melted into him, even as she chided him. “This has to stop.”
“This? What is this?” He cupped her backside, massaging sore muscles. “I’m merely standing here. Breathing.”
No, he was tempting and smoldering and seducing. How could he affect her so strongly? How had her consort’s hold on her body lessened to such a degree, allowing it to happen? Had the father of her child been nothing more than a passing fancy? Why hadn’t she had any more hallucinations of him? That manticore had been the love of her life. Her addiction. Now he was regulated to be little more than a memory she took out of a box and played with occasionally...when she wasn’t playing with the Astra.
Shame and guilt stabbed her. How could she want Roux at all? If she were being honest, he didn’t look anything like Laban, so she couldn’t trick herself into blaming a resemblance between the two. Not anymore.