Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“Let me go,” she demanded. When he refused, she beat her fists against his shoulders. How dare he act chivalrous after choosing a stupid bone over her very life.
Tears welled, and she struggled to blink them back.
“Are you crying?” he demanded, gripping her chin. He flinched before glowering. “You stop that immediately!”
“What? Me? Cry?” She hit him harder. “I hope your intestines rot and exit from your mouth! The zombider toxin has obviously affected my eyes. Shut up!”
He laid her down on the blanket, near the fire, still so gentle. Looking her over, he asked, “How do you feel?”
“How do you think I feel?” she snapped. “You’re the first one I’m eating when I turn.” How long did she have? Was she soon to hunger for living flesh? Would she rot and reek?
“You aren’t turning.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You told me the Phoenix lord injected you with his toxin. How many doses have you received?”
Thinking about slaying her so she’d come back healed? “Only four. Not enough,” she grated. “No one has ever made the transition before receiving the tenth dose, so don’t you dare kill me. Even if I show signs of zombieism. You can’t. Because I’m calling in my boon.” It galled her to use it so quickly, and for this, a travesty of injustice he had caused. “You will give me a chance to recover. If you trust nothing else, trust this. Without me, you will never enjoy a true happily-ever-after.” Because Lore’s shadow monsters would eat him!
“I’m not giving you a chance to recover, I’m demanding you do it.” He balled and unballed his hands. “If we can return to my palace, I can aid you. Are you able to remove the metal shards?”
“Oh, I’ll remove those shards all right. With pleasure.” Never had she looked forward to injuring someone more.
Though her head swam and her stomach pitched, and all she wanted to do was lie back down and curl into a fetal ball, she lumbered to her feet.
Rathbone knelt in front of her and pointed to where he suspected the different pieces of metal were lodged. It took immense effort to concentrate on the task but somehow, she clawed and sliced and dug out the obstacles to her ticket home. Well, not home home. Her temporary HQ. The zombider’s toxin soon began to heat, cooking her from the inside and out. Reminded her of the Phoenix venom on steroids.
By the time she removed the last shard, sweat soaked her. “There. Done,” she said, breathing now a chore. She wiped her bloody hands on his skin. “Let’s—” A flash of movement drew her attention to the left. Except, no one had materialized. Had she glimpsed the future? “Someone comes.”
A blink and a half later, Azar appeared. Their gazes clashed, and he narrowed his eyes.
Rathbone jumped to his feet while scooping Neeka into his arms.
“She was bitten.” The Astra withdrew a dagger. “She dies first.”
“Touch her, and I’ll make you watch Nova burn.” Rathbone teleported Neeka to her bedroom. He laid her upon the comforter, saying, “The Astra won’t interrupt your healing. Before we left, I fortified the palace defenses.”
“Good for you,” she muttered, panting as a wave of pain swept in. She so didn’t want him to see her like this. “Now, get out of my room. You’ve done enough damage for one day.”
13
Rathbone remained beside the oracle’s bed, guilt a barb in his conscience, slicing into inner wounds he hadn’t known he still possessed. They’d been buried too deep. Until now.
You’ve done enough damage. Words his mother had spewed anytime she’d deigned to visit him. She’d also spouted classics like “you ruin everything” and “why can’t you do anything right?”
As a youth, he’d shriveled inside, longing to earn her approval. Not once had he succeeded. Always she’d found fault with his efforts. In turn, he’d lashed out at the servants responsible for his upkeep and quickly became a spoiled terror. Until Hades, Rathbone hadn’t received a single word of encouragement or praise from another living soul.
He rubbed his knuckles between his pectorals. With his uncle’s help, he’d come to understand the problem had been with Hera, not himself. But Rathbone couldn’t blame his mother for his current situation. He alone had hurt Neeka. And he’d hurt her far worse than the zombider. That, he saw so clearly.
He shouldn’t care. She was an employee, nothing more. But he cared.
Blood coated her shirt near where she’d been bitten and stabbed. White crust surrounded the punctures, the centers raw and oozing. Her usually vibrant skin dulled. Red rimmed her irises, and blue tinged her lips. Agony etched each lovely feature.
When he’d chosen to save the bone rather than Neeka, he’d been in the heat of battle, acting on old instincts. He might have, perhaps, possibly made a grave error that would haunt him for eternity. Hearing the oracle scream...seeing her writhe in anguish...watching her realize he’d jeopardized her life when he’d had the power to save it...