Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Closing his eyes again, he breathed in, drawing the fragrance of fresh meadow flowers into his nose, his soul. Even though he had seen her just the night before, it felt like a lifetime since he’d—
And there she was, rounding the curve, the restless, banked flames playing over the face that he had visualized in his every waking moment and throughout his dreams. Oh, wow, she had worn her hair down for him, the naturally highlighted brown length flowing free and shining off the crown of her head—and her clothes were what he had come to expect, simple and perfect, a loose linen skirt and a bright white button-down, coupled with a coral sweater tied around her shoulders.
She looked bright and sunny, even though it was early evening.
“Hi,” he said as she stopped a couple of steps higher than him… so that their faces were on the same level.
Her smile was shy. “Hi.”
Annnnnnd then they just stared at each other. Which made him feel less like a letch: As long as she was looking at him in the same way, then consuming her with his eyes seemed less inappropriate.
“I’m sorry if this is weird.” Wait, that was what he’d said to her last night, right? “Jesus, I’m like a broken record, aren’t I.”
“What is this place?” She indicated the stairwell. “I mean… that painting, these steps, the lanterns? I feel like I’m in a Vincent Price movie.”
“That’s exactly what I was worried about.” He shook his head. “You have nothing to fear here, I promise you.”
It wasn’t like she was standing in front of Dracula, or anything.
Fuck.
“It’s okay.” She smiled in a way that reached her eyes and warmed them. “Now that you’re here—I mean, I’m here with you—I mean—”
“Now that we’re together.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “That’s right. Everything’s okay now.”
As he felt a wave of heat hit his face, it was like he’d never been alone with a female before. Sure, he was nothing on Rhage’s level when it came to the opposite sex, but he was not unfamiliar with these things. He had even had two young outside of proper mating who had tragically died centuries ago.
When it came to Anne, however, he…
His eyes dropped to her mouth. And all he could think of was kissing her.
Except as he glanced back into his own chamber, he knew she deserved more respect than to be alone with him where his bedding platform was, especially given where he was in his head. What the hell had he thought they were going to do down here? Stand at the base of the stairs until sunset?
Well, as she said, at least they were together.
As if on cue, she leaned forward and looked into the darkened guest suite, where Wrath sometimes slept.
“What an incredible place,” she murmured. “This house… is amazing.”
“Let me show you around.”
Darius led the way into the other chamber because it was the better of the two options. And though there was no indent where the King had lain across the bed, he smoothed his hand over the duvet anyway.
“Is this where your boss stays?” she asked as she walked around and looked at the landscape paintings that were supposed to take the place of windows. “It certainly seems very secure.”
“Yes, this is his room.” He cleared his throat. “Well, when he’s here. Which isn’t as often as I’d like.”
“You’re close to him, then? As a friend?”
“No one is close to him. But I’d like to earn my keep.”
With a nod, she went by the desk that was kitted out with a plume and an inkpot, as well as stationery. Not that anyone would be using any of it.
Picking up a sheet of the paper, she frowned. “What’s this?”
Crossing the room, it was no sacrifice to get close enough to peer over her shoulder. “Hmm?”
“This… it’s writing, isn’t it?”
Her thumb passed over the engraved heading that spelled out Wrath’s royal lineage in the Old Language, the listings of the father of the father of the father… going back generations, and yet the symbols were all the same because all the Kings of the species had been named Wrath.
The same sequence was tattooed on the insides of the current Wrath’s forearms, with the females of the bloodline also included—and between one blink and the next, Darius saw the flesh, rather than the paper.
Back when he’d been younger and more idealistic, he’d known with certainty that all Kings would carry that name. That the Dhestroyer prophecy would be fulfilled and the lessers and their evil master eliminated. That his generation of the Black Dagger Brotherhood would finally usher in a peaceful future, that their hard graft in the war would be rewarded with a victory earned upon the honor and the legacy of the brave dead as well as the courage and commitment of the living.