Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I pull his hand away, smiling through my anxiety. “I promise I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll hang out again, okay?”
He growls low in his throat, stepping in front of my bike.
The message is clear—I’m not going anywhere.
“All right then,” I say, not bothering to hide my irritation. “Looks like I’m fucking staying.”
19
JURIK
I can feel her irritation with me.
What does she expect? That I will just let her wander back to the human hive and she will vanish again? But the moment she put on her metal legs once more, I knew that was exactly what she wanted to do. So I stopped her, and now she is angry with me. Her smile has disappeared and her scent is tinged with frustration. She refuses to meet my eyes and slaps my hand away when I reach for her.
I want to take her to my nest. To show her that I can provide a good home for her, to keep her safe and warm and comfortable, but she clearly wants none of these things right now. She glares at me stubbornly and grabs her pack, walking away from her metal legs and hugging it to her chest. She does not turn in the direction of the hive, though, and that pleases me. I trail behind her, on edge, until she heads to a patch of grass and sets her pack down, then uses it to support her head. She turns on her side—away from me—and curls up against herself.
I glance around, unhappy at the spot she has chosen to rest at. It is out in the open, with no walls to protect her, or height to discourage. She is on the ground, exposed and vulnerable. Any drakoni could see her sleeping out in the open and grab her with his claws.
The thought makes me furious.
I shift forms immediately, surging over to her side. If she will not find a protected spot to sleep, I must shield her. I wrap myself around her, my tail curling around her sleeping form as a barrier and I settle down carefully against her back. I lay my claws over her waist, keeping a firm grip upon her, and ignore her attempt with her hand to push me aside.
I do this to protect her.
I extend my wing over where she lies down, making her frustrated sounds in her throat, and cocoon her with my body. This, I hope, will cover her smell so no one else scents her and thinks to claim her as a mate. Until she takes my fires, she is vulnerable, so I must be vigilant.
My Ruh-chul pushes at my claws again, babbling sharp sounds at me. I croon, letting my breath ruffle her soft hair, until she gives up and lies down again, a sigh of irritation telling me she has surrendered.
I am pleased.
I keep crooning at her, letting her know I am here and she is protected, until her breathing evens out and she drifts off to sleep. I do not sleep. There is too much at stake. I simply curl my claws tighter around her, and lower my head, keeping my thoughts open so I can remain vigilant. As I do, I can feel the distant brush of other minds against mine—crazed ones, full of colors and sounds. I avoid them, drawing back, because they make me feel as if I will lose control, as well. Instead, I focus in on Luminoura and Sallavatri, letting their bright, shining thoughts keep mine from straying, and I breathe in the scent of my mate.
It is the quietest my mind has been in some time.
RACHEL
Jenny is sewing by hand on her bunk, working on a quilt of scraps she has patched together.
“Who’s the blanket for?” I ask, sitting across from her, cross-legged on Manda’s bunk instead of my own. I have knitting needles in my hands and am working on a scarf with bright golden yarn.
“It’s for you.” Jenny pulls her needle carefully. “You’re getting married.”
“I am?” I look up from my knitting needles. “To who?”
“Brady. He said not to tell you.” Jenny’s expression is sad. “It’s the only way, though. You don’t have a choice. All of us are going to get married.”
“I…don’t want to marry him,” I whisper.
“It doesn’t matter what we want.” She keeps on sewing, her expression placid. “They married off Manda and Kristi, and you’re next. Pretty soon I’ll be here all alone.” Jenny shakes her head. “I won’t have anyone to sew for.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” I protest again, but the door opens.
It’s Brady, and he glares down at me, his expression ugly. “Are you done with my scarf, Scarface?”
I look down at the knitting in my hands, but it’s gone, all the threads tangled around my right hand in a clusterfuck of a knot. I try to shake the threads loose, but they get tighter and tighter, squeezing my hand and cutting into my skin. Pain lances up my arm, my fingers trapped, and I claw at the threads with my left hand, desperate to get them off, to free my grip. Instead, the gold threads just tighten even more—