Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Hadriel walked past and I followed, noticing people look my way, their gazes once again tracking my movements. It wasn’t my lack of magic they were gawking at this time—it was the prisoner with the ripped shirt and intimate mark on her neck.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I murmured, my face heating.
“Making very delightful, if somewhat questionable choices.” He plucked at my shirt to get me moving faster. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. You might as well have a little fun before the end, if that is what’s to come. I know all about that. I lived that for sixteen years or so. Just please, love . . .” He stopped and faced me, his expression serious. “Stop before you reach shame-fucking. That’s a very slippery slope. Learn from your ol’ pal Hadriel. Hate fucking is fine. Getting off on the power play of captor and prisoner? Sounds fucking amazing, and I’m definitely going to roleplay that as soon as I can wrangle up some kinky fuckery. But shame fucking? No. You’ve gone too far.” He started walking again, leaving me sputtering awkwardly. “I promised you stories and I will absolutely deliver. You’ll see what I mean. By the way, did you find all the dicks on my jacket, yet? I wore it again today since you didn’t have enough time to see them all last night. Wasn’t that nice of me? Now, where the fuck is that fucking supply wagon?”
As my mind tried once again to process his words, my gaze dutifully fell to the back of his jacket, quickly spying several dicks sewn into the design. Various carts and wagons gathered in the middle of a forming line, many of these pulled by a sturdy horse or two.
“Ah, here we are.” Hadriel ran his hand over the rump of a black horse with white spots before stopping at the cart it was attached to. A man off to the side glanced his way and then noticed me. He saw my ripped shirt and then the mark on my neck, his eyes widening a little.
“What do you need?” he asked Hadriel, his surprise not coloring his tone.
“A shirt for her. She had a tryst with her enemy and ended up coming all over his fingers.”
My face started burning but the man seemed to take it in stride. Apparently Hadriel’s manner was no secret among the pack. It meant he wasn’t putting on an act for me, something I appreciated.
“The alpha is acting fair peculiar with her, ain’t he?” The man helped Hadriel unhook the latch and pull open the back of the cart. He stood back, leaning against the edge of the cart as Hadriel started rifling through packages neatly stacked inside. His gaze took in my face and drifted down my body, sticking on the mark again. I did everything in my power to stop from fidgeting at the appraisal. “I get the appeal—she’s stunning—but it isn’t like him to let down his guard like that. She’s a murderer, for heaven’s sakes. She took down my mate’s friend’s nephew. Our alpha can’t stand the things she’s responsible for. You’d think he’d kill her himself, not take her to the dragons. He’s got that personal grudge against it, you know? Why wait when we can just be done with her now, that’s what I say. I can’t stand the sight of her, let alone want to have sex with her.”
I lifted my chin and turned my face away a little, muscle memory for when people were saying nasty things about me within my vicinity. It was more common than I cared to admit. Ignoring it was now second nature.
Hadriel straightened up with an incredulous expression. He stared at the man for a brief moment.
“Real fucking nice, Chuck, you miserable weeping cock.” He threw out his hand to indicate me. “She’s standing right fucking there. If you’re going to bring up a possible execution, at least have the class to joke about it.” He shook his head, moving packages out of the way to get deeper into the wagon. “Who taught you social etiquette, the fucking demons? Next you’ll be trying to give her a dick flavored lollipop.”
The man straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. “I never much liked you.”
“I know, you tell me that every time you see me.” He opened up a package and pulled out a shirt. Holding it up, he nodded and then held it out to me. “Drab as they come. Just like you like it.”
“It’s better not to stand out,” I mumbled, taking it. “People think you’re putting your lack of magic in their faces if you stand out.”
“I get that,” the man said, studying me again. “That’s not the sort of thing you need to advertise. It makes people nervous.”