Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
I didn’t know the right answer, so I went ahead and rushed to slip on my panties and my shirt before he made his way back out.
His gaze moved over me, but whatever he was thinking was still behind that blank mask he’d settled on his face.
“Since you’re better, I am heading out. Figure you’re not working today?” he asked, coming over toward me, but only to gather the notes he’d been taking while I’d been sleeping off my migraine.
“I, ah, no. I called out.”
“Alright. So, I will meet you tomorrow night then? At the library?” he added.
“Yeah. I mean, no.”
“Which is it?” he asked, brows knitting as he took another step back, and I was trying like hell not to let that space mean something to me. And failing miserably. Especially because his expression was still so blank.
“I just meant… you could come here later for a meeting. If you want,” I rushed to add. “Order in take-out and go over any questions you have,” I said. “Or not. That’s totally fine if you prefer the library.”
Although it might crush me a little bit.
“Ah,” he said, reaching up to rub a hand across the back of his neck. “Yeah. That’ll work. See you later,” he said, turning and making his way toward the door.
The slam of it, I swear I felt it in my heart.
“Oh, my God. Get a grip,” I grumbled at myself as I snatched up my pants and made my way toward the bathroom to avoid getting a UTI from the sex.
It was in that bathroom that I felt something weird.
A sort of raw feeling on my hips.
“What the hell…” I said as I looked at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my bathroom door, pulling my shirt up and my panties down to see what was causing the sensation.
And there they were.
Five scratch marks with little punctures at the tips.
Punctures?
I tried to convince myself that it was just that Bael desperately needed a nail trim, even though my memory was like a steel trap, and I knew exactly what those nails had looked like. Short, smooth.
But it was the only explanation for those marks, right?
CHAPTER TEN
Bael
What the fuck was that?
I was no good guy back home.
I fucked. And I fucked a lot.
But never, fucking ever, did I start to go through a damned Change when I was fucking.
There was no denying, though, that was exactly what had happened as I felt Charlotte’s tight pussy squeeze my cock.
My fingertips elongated to talons.
The aching in my temples said my horns had started to peek out.
And we weren’t even going to talk about how my fucking tongue forked the second I got a taste of her sweet cunt.
Then, fuck, I was still trying to wrap my head around this part, as her pussy spasmed around my cock, dragging my orgasm out of me, my fucking wings shot out of my back.
I was completely powerless to stop it.
Thank fuck I was fucking her from behind because if she saw that shit, she would scream her head off. And not in the good way.
I mean, seriously, what the fuck?
Was that why my brother liked to fuck human women so much? Was there something different about them? Something more intense?
It certainly felt more intense.
It felt fucking all-consuming.
I’d never come that hard in my life.
I swear I saw stars.
I felt the pleasure down to my toes, for fuck’s sake.
The crazy shit was, that was only half of the reason I felt like I needed to get the fuck out of there as fast as possible.
The other part of that was this weird as fuck sensation in my chest when I’d walked back into the living room and saw her standing there, all rosy and dreamy-eyed.
It was like a tightening sensation.
Like the humans complained about when their hearts started to fail them.
But my heart couldn’t fail me. It didn’t work that way. So, then, what the hell was going on with me?
I was walking out of the elevator as I reached for my phone, seeing a text from Ace that said he still hadn’t heard from Daemon.
And that was exactly who I felt like I needed to talk to right then.
I found him and hit the call button, listening to his voice saying to leave a message.
“Yo, Daemon. I… I need to fucking talk to you about something. As soon as possible. I don’t give a fuck if you don’t answer Ace right now. But call me back,” I said, then ended the call.
I probably sounded desperate in that message.
I couldn’t even bring myself to worry about that, though.
In a way, I was desperate.
And if anyone would take that seriously, it was Daemon, who knew that was not normal for me. If anyone was going to prompt him to call, it was going to be me. Especially since I’d all but given up on trying to tell him anything several decades ago.