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)
I turn in Maddox’s arms to face him. “Fine. I’m different. Then why in the hell did I vote with them? Why did I cast the final vote that would send those people to their deaths?”
He brushes back a wet lock of hair from my face, but I don’t feel the cold. Only the warmth of his fingertips as he gives me an empathetic smile. “Because you’re trying to figure out how to survive. You’re immortal, and you’ll have to work with them as a unit for eons. It’s politics, and you’ve barely dipped your toe in it. You’re doing the best you can.”
I shake my head. “I should stand up to them.”
“In time, you will.”
Giving myself continued grace to allow Maddox’s gift of comfort, I drop my forehead to his chest. “They’re so cold and uncaring, and I think I need to be that way too. I’m trying, and sometimes it works, but I’m numb all the time. I don’t like it. I want to feel, but then it hurts so much when I do.”
Maddox nestles his hand against the back of my neck and holds me to him. I snuggle into his strength and warmth as snow whips around us. His lips press to the top of my head, and I feel it everywhere. It’s so strong that my heart expands and contracts almost painfully.
This thing between us… it is so intense.
Pulling back, I look up at him. “I want to feel. I don’t want to be numb to it all. Even if it hurts, like watching what Cato did, I need to be able to feel, Maddox.” My hands go to his cheeks, still warm despite the swirling snow. “Make me feel, okay?”
Maddox’s green eyes—formerly soft and tender with understanding—go nuclear as he processes my request. His hands come to my cheeks, and we stare at each other. “You know I can make you feel good, Zora. But if you want it to last, you’ve got to open up a little.”
I nod, closing my eyes briefly against the stark reminder of how hard it is to drop the shields. “I know. I’ll try.”
“That’s all you have to do.”
Maddox kisses me, and everything spins. I can’t feel the snow or cold, only the heat of his mouth, and all the ugly feelings evaporate.
My hands move to his shirt, and I claw at the material, needing to feel more of his skin against mine. Maddox drags my robes up, baring one leg so he can slide his hand to my ass and cup it.
He lifts his mouth enough to mutter against my lips, “Look at you, being all modest and wearing panties under your god robes.”
I bite his lip, and he curses. I smile against him, lick the pain away. “They’re silk, if it makes a difference.”
“Easier to tear,” he growls and then proceeds to shred them like they’re tissue paper. He drops the fragile material, and it gets sucked away in a vortex of snow. “Let’s go to your room.”
“No,” I say, hands now working at his pants. “Right here.”
Maddox is bigger and physically stronger than I am, but I somehow manage to drag him right to the hardwood floor. I push him to his back and quickly straddle his lap.
I grab the robes and try to pull them up my body, but they’re tangled with the cape. After growling in frustration, I magic them away.
Maddox’s hands rest on my thighs as he stares at me. “Fuck… look at you,” he says as his gaze roves all over my body. “Perfectly naked, wind and snow whipping all around you. You look like an ice goddess.”
My head turns, and I look at the blown-out windows. I should reverse what I did, call the glass shards back into place, but for now I like the wild tempest swirling around us. It’s like I’m out of control—nervous, excited, and terrified all at once. It’s a tidal wave of emotions swarming me, and it’s the most I’ve felt I think in my entire life.
I scuttle back, rip his pants open, and then his cock is in my hand. I stroke him, velvet over hard steel. A rumble sounds deep in his chest, and his fingers grip my thighs.
We make eye contact—his emerald orbs blazing with fever—and he starts to rear up, wanting to take control.
I put my free hand to his chest. “Let me.”
There’s a war lasting only a second or two, and just when I think he might roll me under him, he slowly lowers himself back to the cold floor. He doesn’t loosen his hold on my thighs, and he’s wound tight as I move my hand up and down his shaft.
Huffing out a breath, he mutters, “You’ve got to do something more than that, Zora. I’m dying here.”
Those words, so thick with lust, needing something only I can give.