Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Least of all me.
After a deep breath, I offered something personal, exploring what it might mean. “When I would come into your office, it always smelled so nice in there. I thought it was the flowers, so I would stare at them and appreciate their beauty as I reminded myself that if I could get through the meeting, my life might not be in jeopardy for another year. If I had known the scent I loved so much was you, I might have seen you in a different light. No boy or Watcher ever smelled good. It may have been a sign, like a female’s song. If I had known that, it would have given me perspective to consider you.”
“Loved?” I heard the smile in his voice. “What do I smell like?”
I didn’t want to regret speaking of something deeply intimate, so I simply said, “Warm and sweet. Like cake.”
Softly chuckling, he stroked me from nape to sacrum. “I would note what you stared at longest every time you came, and I’d collect more of what I found you to prefer. That is why there are so many plants.”
An honest laugh bubbled out of me, taking with it some of the tension. “I do like your toxic flowers.” Feeling his fingertips dance up my spine, I asked, “Have any females written journals? Was scent ever mentioned as a precursor?”
He rumbled a lazy response. “Not that I know of.”
Humming, I didn’t like that at all. “Most may not have known their mate before they were claimed. They might not know the scent before the males use it to drug them. It might even mean they do not care for the smell afterward, as it would signal danger. That is sad.”
“Your experiences were singular. You could write them down.”
“Unmated females are forbidden from reading such things. Males would read it though, wouldn’t they? Hoarding all the information for themselves. Unless things change, there is no point in sharing my secrets.”
Eyes glued to General Aegir, who ventured closer, I said, “And change will not come without good men willing to admit our world is broken. Only a worthy man would have one of my daughters.”
The stranger’s eyes were dark, like mine, his stature almost as imposing as Cyderial’s. Approaching without invitation, General Aegir dared speak to me. “I could be made worthy, if you tell me what I must do.”
11
He was a handsome man, his silver hair only an enhancement of his features. But what of his character? Turning to face the male who would barter for my unborn daughter, I asked, “Do you feel that I should have been your mate, General Aegir? Would you have been worthy of me?”
The question made him grow guarded, his expression blank, as he said, “That is irrelevant. You are mated to my friend now.”
Even the man at my back grew more tense, as I pressed, “Humor me. Had you heard my song, would it be your belief that I should be yours?”
Glancing to Cyderial, cagey threat in his glower, General Aegir said, “If I had heard your song, you would have been mine.”
“Buy why you and not him, or him?” I gestured to his companions, General Boreal and General Murdoch. “Why not one of them? Why would one of the three of you be preferable to someone who has known me for ten years?”
I did not know these men, their histories or motivations. I knew nothing about their character. So my questions were fair. I was even gentle as I asked, “Would any of you have waited all that time for me to age? Would you have hidden me away from the others, even though it might cost you the chance to have me?” And to myself, I asked, Would one of them have forced a knot into me, even though I begged them to stop? Because I believed all three of them capable of it. “Would you have trusted me with my freedoms? Supported me? Why should it have been you? You don’t know anything about me. What if my personality failed to suit you?”
Failing to blink, Aegir watched, rapt. “I don’t believe that would’ve been possible. Nature does not make mistakes.”
It seemed all males found the idea inconceivable, the burden solely on the female to accept a life partner they may not like. “What if your personality failed to suit me? The four of you are no doubt different people, with different interests. So how could I possibly suit all of you, if each of you heard my song? Sharing a genetic ancestor does not signify mutual appreciation.”
His stance grew more conversational, the male shifting his weight to his left foot to ponder. “I see your point. But you are failing to realize that the male adapts to the female.”
“Then why are the females locked away? It seems to me they are forced to conform to the male’s ideals if they ever want to smell the fog again.”