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)
His claws sank deeper into the pillar. Just before the bloodsucker reached her target, a banshee cut her down with a sword. Relief crested—and crashed. At least eighteen others switched their focus to the pale, trembling harphantom.
How much longer could Blythe succeed in this condition?
With no other recourse, Roux bit out, “I will feed you in Blythe’s place.” A thought that left him shuddering. Without the use of jewels, wraiths fed like phantoms. Lips to skin. A method he usually avoided by fair means or foul. But Roux wanted Blythe healthy, whole, and able to steal as many of his organs as she wished. Faced with the possibility of losing her, he could do nothing but trade his pride for the truth. Feeding this wraith was the only way to keep the harpy safe.
“I’m intrigued by the offer, but I’m not yet sold.” Penelope fluffed her mass of red hair. “I seek the meals to feed my subjects, you see. And I know what you’re thinking. I’m such a benevolent queen.”
A manticore—the original manticore—plowed into Blythe. The two hit the ground and rolled over the sand. Behind him, the royal court clapped and cheered. Razor sharp claws raked across the harphantom’s throat, and she jerked, blood pouring from the wounds. When she froze, Roux tensed. Was the manticore’s venom working through her system?
Seven minutes remained in the heat, but less than a second remained in her current battle. She must revive in time. She must!
As the manticore tensed, preparing to render another strike—this one delivered by her lengthening teeth—time seemed to slow. He rushed out, “I’ll consider feeding your wraiths as well, but you must allow Blythe to regain her strength while I’m contemplating it.”
“I’ll give you both one minute. No more. But probably less.”
“Do it!” he commanded, time returning to normal.
The manticore was in the process of whooshing down, intending to bite—the harphantom jolted with new life. With one hand, she reached up and caught her opponent by the throat. With the other hand, she punched. Her attacker staggered, her jaw broken.
Look at the Undoing go.
A warrior without equal, Blythe glided to her feet. Color returned to her cheeks. All grace and brutality, she repeatedly kicked her rival in the face. Savage stomps meant to cause as much damage as possible. Before the manticore could recover, the harphantom stepped inside her, vanishing. Seconds later, the manticore was using her own claws to rip out her own throat. Blythe had taken control of the body.
Only then did he breathe a sigh of renewed relief. Pride squared his shoulders. That’s my female.
No, no. Not mine. Not outside of their private quarters, where they seemed to be the only two people alive.
Unless she was his?
He hadn’t produced stardust for her but...maybe. If she belonged to him, he might belong to her, too. Though he’d never heard of a harpy receiving two consorts, stranger things had happened. Surely.
If he belonged to her, she would have to forgive him. They would talk more. Tease and play. Touch. Kiss. So badly he yearned to kiss her. To do all the things he contemplated every night while she tossed about in bed.
I will make her scream my name.
“Thirty-nine. Thirty-eight. Thirty-seven,” Penelope counted, reminding him of their ongoing negotiation.
Concentrate! “How many wraiths serve you?” he asked as another combatant swooped in to finish off the manticore.
The royal court twittered with disappointment.
“Oh, only twenty-two.”
Only.
“Like me,” she continued with the most annoying calm, “they dine exclusively on hatred. That’s why we were sent here. Too many immortals hold grudges. We weakened them, so they found a way to dispose of us. But I digress. I sense you hold enough hatred to feed my lot of wraiths for years to come.”
She sensed correctly. “During the tournament, I will feed you and your wraiths. But only once a day. And I will not wear a jewel.” As much as he would detest having their mouths on his skin, he preferred temporary contact to a permanent connection. “In return, you cannot drain Blythe during heats. Or at all.”
“I’m considering thinking about it... No deal. I can’t help it if she opens the link herself. There are moments I will feed on her, despite the timing.”
He nodded stiffly. “I agree. Do you?”
“No, not yet. I want to know why you’re doing this. The harpy still hates you. Otherwise, I couldn’t drain her at all. Besides that, you’re required to kill her if she wins the tournament.”
Yes. The very reasons he required time to think this through. “I owe you no explanation for my actions.”
“Fair enough. But what happens if your female dies without my interference?”
Feeling like an injured animal backed into a corner, he grated, “Our bargain will stand. Do. You. Agree?”
“Yes. I accept the terms, Astra. For the next ten days, you’ll flash to the island at sundown. No exceptions. If you fail to appear, even once, I’ll drain Blythe the Undoing to death before the next battle commences.”