Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
“Crap.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I call out.
I only have the towel, which I quickly wrap around my body.
I sigh heavily before I say, “Uhm…Raighne, my bag is in the car. Will you bring it?”
I wait a couple of minutes before the door opens, and Raighne comes in with my bag in his hand. His eyes flick over me while he sets it down on the counter.
Feeling super self-conscious, I mutter, “Thanks.”
When he leaves, I quickly open the bag but only find a few sets of underwear and a jacket.
Shit. Did Brenna only pack one set of clothes for me?
My head whips around to where the jeans and T-shirt are lying in a puddle of water from the spray that fell outside of the shower.
Ugh. What am I going to do?
I dig the underwear out of the bag then shake my head. “Oh, come on. Seriously, Brenna!”
I stare at the matching pink lace set, then glance at the shut door.
I place the towel on the counter and put on the revealing underwear before grabbing the towel again and wrapping it around me.
This will just have to do.
I quickly pick up my wet clothes and lay them over the towel railing so they can dry during the night.
Reluctantly, I say, “I’m done.”
The door opens and when Raighne sees me gripping the towel, he frowns at me. “You’ll need to drop the towel so I can get to your back.”
“I’m only wearing underwear,” I mutter.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “So?”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Scowling at the man, it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to go to hell, but then I grow too brave for my own good.
Fine. If he wants me to drop the towel, we can both be uncomfortable with me standing in nothing but pink lace.
Keeping my eyes locked with his, I take the towel off and set it down on the counter.
Instead of looking uncomfortable, Raighne’s eyes flick over my body, and the expression on his face darkens.
“What the fuck, Alchera?” he grumbles.
I glance down, and seeing the myriad of bruises on my torso and ribs, regret pours hot through my chest.
Thank God he can’t see the back of my leg.
He stalks toward me, anger pouring off him in waves. Grabbing hold of my arm, he turns me to see my leg, and I let out a groan.
“I knew you were keeping secrets from me,” he snaps. “Why the hell did you hide your wounds from me?”
I move backward, but it doesn’t help because he quickly closes the gap between us.
“I’m fine,” I argue. “You can’t heal every wound I get.”
I try to shove past him, but he grips me by my shoulders and shakes me.
“Enough!” His voice thunders in the small bathroom.
I cringe from his anger directed at me, and it has him taking a step away from me.
Shaking his head, he asks, “Why do you keep fighting our bond? You’ve become good at blocking me, but not that good. I can still get through when you’re tired.”
A confrontation with Raighne is the last thing I need right now. I’m already feeling nauseous and lightheaded, and the headache is making it hard to think.
I lower my gaze from his and stare at the tiles beneath my bare feet.
When I keep quiet, Raighne lets out a heavy breath and steps closer to me again.
He lifts his hands to my sides, and I feel his warmth spread through my ribs and torso.
Slowly, it becomes easier to breathe, and after a good ten minutes or so, he mutters, “Lean against me so I can check your back.”
“You need to take a break,” I argue.
“Lean against me, Alchera,” he snaps.
Letting out a sigh, I press my body to his and close my eyes. When his hands move over my back, removing the last of the whip lashes, I have to suppress the urge to sob in his arms.
I just want him to hold me until everything is better.
I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face against his chest.
I start to feel even more sick, and convinced I have the flu, I wonder if Raighne can heal more than just wounds.
He pulls free from my hold and crouches in front of me. I glance away because he’s dangerously close to being at eye level with my lace panties.
When his hand brushes over the patch on my thigh, he asks, “What’s this?”
I step backward, instantly uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. “It’s just something for the pain.”
Darting around him, I walk into the room, and climbing onto the bed, I crawl beneath the covers.
“Where did you get it?” he demands as he follows me into the bedroom.
Shit. One bed.
My eyes widen when I realize I’m sharing a bed with Raighne.
When I don’t answer him quickly enough, he snaps, “Where did you get it, Alchera?”