Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
This time there was no mistaking the trace of amusement in his voice. You give me no choice but to come to you. I cannot have children calling you “old frail one,” although I may do so occasionally. She forced herself to join with his humor, although she didn’t understand how he could find humor in the situation, not when she wanted to cry at what she had caused.
“We must get word to my family that we won’t come today,” she told the others as she moved around the human men she’d known all her life, standing or sitting as statues, unaware of the drama that had played out right in front of them. She barely gave them a glance, let alone a thought. “We will come to them after Petru’s wound is healed.”
“I gave my word of honor, Pelkgapâd és Meke Pirämet,” Petru corrected gently. “We will go to the house of your father and grandfather, sign the marriage contract and then return to our resting place.”
Safia had gotten close to him, but she stopped just in front of him. She knew the color washed from her face as she looked down at the man she had already tied her life to. She wouldn’t have backed out of her commitment even if she could have. This close to him, she could see the devastation the blast had caused, even with the partial shield hastily erected and the heavy muscles on his chest. Even after Mataias’ meticulous healing.
This close to him, it was impossible not to feel the pain that Petru had automatically blocked out. The moment he realized she could still feel it, he blocked it from her as well.
There is no need, Safia. He gave a mental shrug. In a few nights, this wound will be completely gone and forgotten. I have had much worse.
She detested the way he was so casual about such a horrific injury. “My family will understand and wait for us.”
“We go now,” he said decisively.
Safia wouldn’t argue with him, not in front of his brethren. She’d done enough to embarrass herself. In any case, she heard the single note of implacable resolve. She turned away from him, shrugging, attempting to look casual as he appeared beside her, one arm sliding around her waist, clamping her beneath his shoulder.
Look at me.
I can’t. I don’t understand why you’re so insistent. I’m holding it together by a thread.
I need you to look at me, sívamet. See me. Look past this block you’ve put between us in your mind.
Around them, the other Carpathians were putting the restaurant back to the exact way it had been prior to the confrontation between Safia and the demons. They were meticulous, inspecting the entire building to ensure it was sound and free of all debris and evidence of demons or Carpathians.
The upstairs office where Charif had been held was cleaned of his blood, furniture had been put right and the human male, who had been interrogating and punishing him, had been taken downstairs and placed with the other men. All memories of Charif having been in the restaurant that night were carefully erased.
Safia watched the others setting the scene in Aabis Kalaz’s restaurant back to rights as Petru led her outside.
“You will have to look at me sometime, Safia.”
Why did his voice have to be so gentle? How could he affect her so easily? “I know. Just not now.”
The cool night air felt good on her overly warm face. She looked up at the stars, mostly hidden by the swirling gray fog coming off the sea.
She didn’t need to look at his face, that strong jaw or the lines carved so deep, purely masculine, mostly sensual to her. His eyes like crystals, so beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful. When she thought of him, she went soft inside. Safia pressed a hand to her churning stomach, feeling as if she were on the brink of a great revelation.
Despite his injury, Petru swept her into his arms and took to the air. It was astonishing to realize how safe she felt with him as they moved across the sky toward the farm. It didn’t matter that his chest had been mangled and the blast had caused injuries to his heart. Aura had transported her hundreds of times in the same manner, and she’d never felt safe. She’d always remained alert for the enemy, concerned that they would be tracked by a vampire or that she wouldn’t feel the presence of a demon.
With Petru, she never felt those concerns. She knew she’d made a fool of herself and he should think less of her, but she was in his mind and he didn’t. He never seemed to.
Safia pressed her ear over his chest, right over his heart, listening to the steady rhythm. The moment she did, the chaos in her mind settled. The churning in her stomach lessened to the soft flutter of butterfly wings. There was such a difference in the way she felt—if she allowed herself to be open to the emotions pouring in. That door inside her inched open wider.