Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I know I should be horrified that she’s hurt people, but I’m more concerned with how defeated she seems. “You wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.”
Her mouth flattens. “I did hurt you. Intent matters less than the results. You almost died. It won’t happen again.”
“But what if I want it to?” The question’s out before I can call it back, and I wouldn’t anyways. “As I said before, it took two of us to get in that situation, and I think it’s more than fair that the two of us come to a decision about how we move forward.”
She plants her hands on the table. “You can make all the statements you want, Maeve.” She speaks slowly, each word enunciated clearly. “But ultimately it doesn’t matter if it took two of us to get to that point or if I am solely responsible, because I almost killed you and I will not do it again. You can make your own choices with your safety and health, but you can’t force me to bite you.”
I want to keep arguing, but it’s coming from a selfish place. We had finally reached a point where it felt good to be there. With her in my bed, comfortable enough to do all the things that we both wanted to do. To have newly created distance between us feels wrong. It’s only a matter of time before she returns to her realm; I don’t want to lose another minute with Lizzie.
If she harmed me, then I harmed her right back. The evidence of it has already been cataloged. If I was a better person, I would allow her to retreat instead of clinging to her with all my strength. A month ago, I would have said I was a better person. It turns out . . . I’m not. “What if we compromise?”
She glares at me. “If you’re about to suggest that I bite you—”
“I want that, but I understand if you’re not ready for it.” I keep talking, even when she’s obviously about to protest that she’ll never be ready. I desperately don’t want her to say those words out loud, because then they might be true.
I want Lizzie, with or without her bite. If that means that I have to sit by while other people orgasm as a result . . . it hurts to think about, but she’s not mine. More than that, if she was, I would be a terrible partner to demand that she starve herself to appease my jealousy. “Do you still want me?”
“What kind of question is that? Yes, I still want you. That’s what got us into this situation to begin with.”
Relief makes my shoulders sag for a moment. Hearing her confirm her desire comforts the part of me that’s been on edge since I woke up. Lizzie may be a lot of things, but she’s not a liar. I can trust her when she tells me she wants me. I want to trust her. “I still want you, too. You need to eat, and if you won’t bite me, then you need to pick someone else.”
She watches me closely, as if sensing a trap and not being able to define the parameters of it. “You’re okay with that? With me biting someone else?”
No. Yes. I don’t know. I want to be okay with it if my approval is what she needs. We have such a short time together, and we’ve already wasted days of it with this nonsense. Granted, I don’t think Lizzie would qualify it as such, but I’m not in the mood to admit she might be right.
“I have no claim on you,” I finally say, but the words are stilted and wrong.
Lizzie leans forward, expression intent. “Do you want a claim on me?”
Does she understand what she’s asking? The implications? Of course I want a claim on her. I haven’t known her nearly long enough to justify the strength of my feelings, but I want her at my side in whatever way I can manage, for as long as I can manage. “You’re leaving. You were always going to leave.”
“Yes,” she says slowly. “But there’s not a deadline in place. It could be weeks—or months or years. Threshold is large enough to lose a ship for that long and longer. I’m bound to find those family heirlooms and return them to their proper place, but I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves if we start acting like I’m going home tomorrow.”
Every bit of that statement is full of contradictions. She almost sounds like she doesn’t want to find the Crimson Hag at all, but that can’t possibly be right. Her only goal since arriving on Threshold has been reclaiming the jewels stolen from her.
She might care for me—and her reaction to taking too much blood cannot be construed as anything other than caring—but I have no illusions about what that means. She cared for Evelyn, too, and she still chased her across the realms with the intent to kill her and retrieve the stolen items. I can’t count on Lizzie’s caring being enough to combat the loyalty she feels to her family, no matter how toxic they seem from the little bits she’s shared.