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)
“What are you doing?” Trying to comfort her? Fool! And yet, the rage seeped from her. She sagged in place, almost as if—no! No, no, no. Only a consort could tempt a harpy from the worst of her tempers, and Roux wasn’t her consort. He wasn’t.
So he’d calmed her a little? So what? It didn’t mean anything. An effect of the ruby probably. It must be.
With a huff of irritation, she hurled herself away from him.
“Did you harm yourself?” he asked, removing the remains of his shirt. “Do you require medicine or sustenance of any kind? I know you are unable to keep down blood, but what if you can process what comes from a stronger species? It might be worth a try.”
“Stronger species? Like an Astra?” Pacing before him, she laughed without humor. “I don’t need blood right now, and I can drink any soul, any time.” She’d never tasted her consort’s soul, even by accident. He’d asked her not to, and she had respected his decision. He’d needed to preserve his strength to protect his girls.
Roux revealed no reaction, neither confirming nor denying her accusation. “How often do you need to feed on soul?”
“Whenever I wish or monthly.” Whichever came first. Why was he being so solicitous with her, anyway? “Just so you know, I prefer death over ingesting any part of you.” Best to hammer the point home until he did react.
“I don’t recall offering,” he quipped. “If you get hungry, go for the Phoenix. I spotted her on the walk to the palace. She might nourish you well. Blood or soul.”
“Either way,” she grated, “I don’t need you to oversee my meals.”
“Noted.” He remained annoyingly casual. “Shall we talk, then, or would you prefer to use me as a scratching post again?”
“Scratching post. Obviously.”
“Just be careful of my face.” All but smirking now, he stroked his chin. “I know how much you enjoy looking at it.”
Oh! The nerve! Blythe got serious and launched her next attack, once again diving into his lap. Punching. Clawing. Slapping. Elbowing. Kicking. He took the blows without complaint.
Though she didn’t activate the link to the wraith, she began to weaken. Bones broke in her hands with every blow. Skin split, and blood trickled. It wasn’t long before she merely swatted at him. But stop? No! Must deliver pain. Must...feed.
She slowed, her gaze dropping to his throat. Breath sawed in and out of her mouth. How good would he taste?
With the next swipe, the tips of her claws grazed his flesh. Not to harm but to caress. His eyes widened, and he sucked air between his teeth. Without thought, she kind of, sort of rested her palm on his chest. Maybe, possibly, she curled her nails into his skin, too, as if she intended to hold on forever.
Forever?
In a snap, she came to her senses and drew back. Appearing shell-shocked, he captured her wrist and flattened her palm against his bare chest. His racing heartbeat greeted her. She stood frozen—while burning up. He was an absolute furnace!
He moved her touch across his collarbone, forcing her to stroke him. Or maybe not forcing her so much as guiding her.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, far too breathless for her liking.
“There’s no irritation with you,” he said. Shock lit his features, smoothing his roughest edges.
“I don’t care. Stop it!” Better?
He didn’t stop it. He linked their fingers.
Too intimate! “Let me go,” she commanded, tugging to no avail.
“There is no irritation with you,” he repeated, drawing her touch to his well-defined abs. “I want more.”
Oh, good gracious. Was he smuggling an eight pack of grenades in there? Her heart knocked against her ribs. Had she been standing, her knees would have wobbled.
Not just sexy. Needy. Sensual. Lethal to her common sense. Her toes threatened to curl with—no, no, no. But there was no denying it. A tendril of desire. As if she craved the touch of a man. This man.
Why, why, why would her body come alive now? With him?
The echo of the siren’s song must be responsible for this, too. Or her brain was glitching, mistakenly assuming she stroked her consort. An understandable error, considering muscles felt like muscles.
Just before Blythe’s fingers reached the Astra’s golden happy trail, she rallied enough inner strength to wrench free of his grip and slap him across the face. Once, twice. Thrice.
Angry with them both, she snapped, “Don’t do that again.”
“Don’t aid me then.” He wagged his jaw, as if she’d finally made an impact emotionally if not physically. Those multi-colored striations spun around his pupils, faster and faster. Drawing her closer...
What are you doing? She wrenched away, furious with herself. With him. “I’m going to examine my surroundings, and you are not going to complain.”
“Can we discuss what happened the day of the Astra invasion?” he asked as she darted about. “I’d like a chance to explain.”