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)
“Perhaps the sway of your hips hypnotized me,” he croaked. As close to the truth as anything. Let her know the wealth of power she wielded over him? No.
“How wonderful for me. An unexpected weapon for my arsenal.” She winked at him. Actually winked. And her irises remained blue. Then she scowled, as if regretting her show of playfulness. “Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s go,” she snapped at the siren, who stood off to the side, eyeing them thoughtfully.
With a shrug, the other female kicked into motion. “No questions about the trouble you’re in?” she asked, as he and the harpy followed.
The irritation in her voice scraped against his eardrums. A common occurrence with her ilk. When a siren’s emotions infused her words, anyone within hearing distance usually experienced a bodily reaction.
“None.” He tore his gaze from Blythe and focused on their companion. His first date, Monna. A true beauty, with short dark hair, round brown eyes, and darker skin. Thick black slashes tattooed into her arms.
Why couldn’t he crave her touch? Life would be so much easier.
Monna huffed with greater irritation. “You should care. Things are about to go nuclear.”
Would Roux go nuclear if ever he got Blythe into bed?
Could he get her into bed? Should he? How much more would she hate him afterward? Did it matter? Hate was hate.
The siren cast a scowl over her shoulder. “Still no questions about what’s going on?”
“Nope,” Blythe said.
“None,” he repeated.
“You know what? I’m glad we didn’t work out.” Monna put her nose in the air. “You’re the absolute worst.” She opened a door to the very conference room he’d explored during his search of the palace. “In here.”
He flashed in front of Blythe, entering first. The remaining members of the welcome party sat at the table, each glaring at him. A refreshing change from the usual leers and catcalls. No sign of the wraith.
Spine ramrod-straight, the siren sat. The lone open chair waited at the end of the table. Had they purposely removed the other chairs? Last time, there’d been twenty females seated in here.
“Pop a squat,” one of the Amazons commanded.
“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.” Head high, Blythe sauntered around him to claim his chair. She acted like a queen before peasants, aware of her superiority and unafraid to show it.
To his bafflement, he almost smiled as he took a post behind her. With harpies, sass was never far from the fore, and Blythe the Undoing wielded more than most.
Saying nothing, he crossed his arms over his chest and scanned their disapproving audience. One minute passed. Two. Three. The first one to break the silence would prove themselves to be the weakest in the room. Patience required strength.
The vampire flashed sharp, white fangs at him. “It’s been brought to our attention that you somehow broke your vow to us.”
“I broke nothing,” he replied easily. Had Penelope witnessed his time with Blythe and informed the others? Was this her big play?
“Is that so?” The dark-haired Amazon banged her fist on the tabletop. “How about the fact that you left the palace grounds without being on an official date?”
“I’m able to flash. I was no more than a split second away the entire time I was gone.” Something he’d carefully considered before whisking Blythe to the lake. “Again, I broke nothing. Also, the rules stipulated I had to date each member of my welcome party. Technically, Blythe Skyhawk is part of my welcome party. She stood among your midst.”
“Therefore, in light of your egregious transgression,” the Amazon continued, “we’ve decided you owe each of us—oh. I see.” Frowning, she scanned the others, as if unsure how to respond. “Is he pardoned? He’s pardoned, isn’t he?”
Murmurs of disappointment arose, but one by one, reluctant nods came.
“Tricky, tricky Astra,” someone muttered.
As if these females were any better. They intended to betray him at the first opportunity.
“Now that that’s settled, I’m guessing the meeting is over,” Blythe said, reclining and kicking up her legs. “The big guy is starved. Someone make him a sammich. Extra pickles.”
The women ignored her, no one even sparing her a glance.
The taller of the Amazons offered him a tight smile. “Minus the wraiths, roughly ninety-five percent of the realm has signed on to participate in the tournament.”
Exactly as hoped. Even those who had no interest in sex or sperm sought a way home.
“This assembly is concluded.” The tall Amazon banged a gavel.
The councilmembers stood, their customary leers returning. Some winked at him. Others blew him a kiss. The manticore made a crude hand gesture.
He showcased no reaction. But Blythe...might have. Had she stiffened, as if she were upset by the attention he received from the others? Surely not. Wishful thinking on his part, nothing more.
“What about that sandwich?” he asked on her behalf.
“Food-wise, you’re on your own today,” a gorgon said as everyone else filed out the door. “We’re busy preparing for the festivities. Unless you’re hungry for gorgon? Because I’m already hot and ready to be served. No?”