Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
The music suddenly lowered, and Frankie spun. And there was Trick, who’d seemingly rounded the house and entered through the open side door of the studio. She shoved up her protective goggles, annoyed that—odd as it was—she was glad to see him. Her wolf sat up, instantly alert and pleased that he’d come.
Trick raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I knocked. You didn’t hear me.” His eyes cut to the sculpture. “Wow.”
“I heard the knocking. I just ignored it, since I’m busy and all.” She hoped that was a clear hint for him to leave, but he wasn’t listening to her. His attention was on the sculpture. Standing on a workbench, it was taller than he. He circled it, studied it, and absorbed it, looking genuinely awed.
Frankie blushed, self-conscious all of a sudden. She wasn’t used to people other than Abigail and those within her field taking such a close look at her work. It made her feel exposed.
“I’ve seen some of your pieces on the interactive gallery on your website, but it’s a whole other thing to see one in person.” Trick backed up a little. “I wouldn’t have thought I could ever find anything scary about a horse. How can something look beautiful, powerful, yet scary as fuck at the same time?”
She put the cap back on the bottle and returned it to the shelf. “It’s a hellhorse.”
“It’s fucking amazing, Frankie,” said Trick honestly—he wasn’t simply trying to please or flatter her. The sculpture was genuinely super impressive, and he found himself in awe of her.
It represented the front half of a horse’s body, yet it didn’t look incomplete. More like it was in the middle of leaping from another dimension or something like that. It was entirely black metal—some parts were thick and smooth and curled slightly, almost like ribbons. Other pieces were so thin they looked more like mesh or metal string.
The creature was in midlunge, legs extended, mouth open, eyes like angry slits, broken chains hanging from its ankles. The wings were huge yet ragged, as if the creature had been left alone to rot and wither. It had broken free of its restraints, but it wasn’t lunging for freedom. It was lunging for its captor. Lunging for vengeance. Or at least that was how it seemed to him.
He turned to Frankie, enjoying the simple luxury of looking at his mate. She was wearing blue coveralls that did nothing for her slim figure. Yet there was still something sexy about the picture she made right then.
When Trick had walked in, his wolf had reacted instantly and fiercely to the sight of her; he’d leaped so hard and fast to the surface that Trick would have shifted if he hadn’t had such iron control. Well, maybe not iron control, given that his cock was so painfully hard and heavy that it hurt to walk.
He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted Frankie Newman. Just looking at her made his gut twist with a fierce sexual need. The sight of her also brought him a supreme joy that nothing else could equal.
He’d woken more than once during the night, his cock full and aching, the image of her face in his mind. He’d showered several times since first meeting her, but her scent still haunted him every moment of the day. It seemed to live inside him now, like it had sunk into his pores. He’d know it anywhere.
Trick’s eyes involuntarily dropped to her lush mouth. He wanted it under his. Wanted to lick and taste and bite. “What made you decide to make a hellhorse?”
“I didn’t. Sometimes I don’t really know what I’m going to create until I actually start the piece.”
That surprised him. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Not for me. If I spend a lot of time pondering what I’m going to do, I overthink it. The fun is in the creative process itself, watching it come together little by little. I guess it’s like when you tell a story—there are stages to it. I’m not a writer, but I don’t think I’d like to know the end of a story before I wrote it. Part of the buzz would come from watching what happens in my head and writing each part down as it comes.”
He nodded. “So you shove your consciousness out of the way so you don’t think too much and can just go with it and see what happens.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly it.” Frankie wasn’t used to people understanding her. She wasn’t used to people wanting to understand. It took her off guard, but her wolf liked that he showed such interest in her.
“You’re not going to make the rear of its body, are you? Because it looks amazing as it is.”
“No, I’m not.” She skimmed her finger over the creature’s neck. “There isn’t much left for me to do now. Shouldn’t take me more than a few weeks to finish.” Realizing he was staring at her, she asked, “What?”