Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Come sit. I’ll open a bottle of wine. Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich, or hell… you could use your power to whip us up a five-course meal if you want. I’ve got fancy china I can pull out.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Not hungry. But I won’t say no to a glass of wine.”
Carrick moves to Finley and kisses her temple with a hand around the back of her neck. “I’m going to be in my office so you two can have sister time.”
I watch carefully as Finley gazes at her husband. There’s a mixture of regret that he’ll be leaving her presence, utter adoration that he’d be so thoughtful, and a hint of pure gratitude to belong to him. In fact, it’s not just her expression that tells me all that.
I can feel the vibe from her and it’s so intense, I wonder what it would be like to feel that way for someone. While I have tenderness and care within me, my formative years were warped. I was never given unconditional love, so I don’t know if I’m capable of giving it myself.
Another question to ask Finley in the long list I’m mentally compiling.
Carrick kisses her again, and she sighs. Her exhale says, “If I died right now, that would be okay.”
But it wouldn’t be okay with me or Carrick, so that’s not happening.
Shooting me a wink, Carrick heads out of the kitchen, grabbing an apple from a bowl on the island. Finley stares after him until he’s out of sight and then turns her besotted gaze on me.
“You’re pathetic,” I mutter.
She gives me a dopey grin. “Can’t help it. He’s perfection.”
I roll my eyes, prepared to point out that he’s a little egotistical, but there’s a huge bang from behind me.
Finley gasps and I spin fast on the kitchen stool, ready to launch power at whatever is threatening us. It bubbles hot, ready to erupt, and then fizzles when I see Maddox standing there.
And I’m sorry, but no demigod has a right to look as good as he does. I’ve thought that from the very first time I gazed upon him when he helped liberate me from the Underworld. His long hair is dark blond, and while Finley and I have been told repetitively we have the most beautiful eyes in the world, Maddox gives us both a run for our money. His are a shimmering green, the color of Irish rolling hills. Tattoos cover his arms, which are thick and muscled, as is the rest of his body. He’s shaved his beard. The last time I saw him, it was full but well-trimmed.
I turn my back on him, indicating he’s not worth my attention, but I didn’t miss the dirt and blood covering his arms, chest, and face, or the fact he holds a battle-ax in his hand.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Finley yells at Maddox as she grabs a towel and a bottle of cleaner from under the sink. “You’re dripping entrails on my kitchen floor.”
She hustles his way as he mutters, “Sorry.”
I can’t help but glance over my shoulder. The ax is gone—presumably Maddox sent it somewhere that’s not here—and Finley is wiping up the floor.
Those green irises land on me, and something glimmers within. I get a trademark Maddox smirk as he moves past me to the cabinets.
“Don’t,” Finley snarls as she rushes toward him. “Your hands are nasty. Don’t touch anything.”
He gives her a grin that would disarm mortals. “Can I bother my sister-in-law for a glass of water? War is hard work.”
“Yes,” she says, her expression softening somewhat. “But don’t move. Just stand there and don’t touch anything.”
As Finley gets him a drink, I ask, “Where did Onyx have you this time?”
Onyx is my sister god, and she reigns over Conflict, which encompasses war and peace. The demigods were created to serve at the whim of the gods and given that Maddox looks like he stepped off the battlefield, I assume it’s at her behest.
He gives a careless wave of his hand. “Some dimension on the verge of political collapse. Apparently, one side has offered up major sacrifices to Onyx, so she sent me there to turn the tide.”
Some dimension, he says, as if this is normal talk, and I suppose it is for him. But this new world of magic and alternate realms is still a shock to my senses.
Finley hands him a glass filled with ice water. He downs it in several long swallows. I watch the way his throat rhythmically moves, making a tattoo of a snake that climbs up the side of his neck writhe from the motion.
“I’ll make you something to eat,” Finley says, moving to the refrigerator.
The minute the fridge is open and she’s rooting through it, Maddox turns his attention to me although he speaks to my sister. “I’m going to take a shower.”