Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
“I thought you were all powerful.” Her grin is so smug I want to pull her hair and kiss her at the same time. “I mean you claim to be Ra, yet you can’t even prevent that? I’m coming to think the entire town is crazy, you included. You’re so deluded by your own myths that you think this is all real. It’s not real!” She screams the last part; a tear falls down her left cheek.
I reach up and touch it with my finger, then bring it to my lips and taste nothing but hope.
Tragic.
“Oh, princess, you want so badly for it to be real it evaporates from the very water that resides in your body.” I shake my head. “Do you want me to show you? Is that what you need? Proof before death?”
“Why do I have to die?”
“Why do you get to live?” I counter quickly.
Her eyes fall.
I grip her hand in mine, then grab the other until we’re both pressed against that damned sacrificial slab. Our palms meet, they kiss, they mate, I can taste the lust in the air and the moisture from her body pulling toward me. Begging me for my flame to suck the oxygen directly from her lips.
Most don’t remember. And most times I don’t blame them for forcing the memories away, but this one… this one needs to know what she’s dealing with and what she’s sacrificing, and maybe she’s somehow made me go soft.
All she wants is books.
History.
Knowledge.
All they want is power.
How tragic indeed.
I lean in until my lips are a breath away. “You’ll forget this, but remember what you should…a gift, from a god of old.”
She gasps.
My mouth presses against hers.
She’s cold, where I’m warm.
She breathes me in as everyone does. I’m life itself. A fever that will never relent.
I’m everything.
Her arms wrap around my neck, drawing me close. I didn’t expect the invasion of her tongue, but I welcome it; it’s been too long.
She’s not going into a dreamlike state. This is not normal, but I don’t care because damn, she feels good. I press her harder against the ceremonial slab and then lift her up with my hands wrapping her legs around my hips as I kiss her harder.
Cleo is taken aback at first, but soon she’s kissing me back with equal ferocity. Her lips taste of anger and passion, raw intensity that has me addicted instantly.
Wrong on so many levels but, damn, her blood will be spilled by my hands in less than a few weeks.
I feel no guilt.
Only need.
I grip her by the hair tugging her back to stare into her eyes.
She gives me a fuzzy look. “Was that your proof?”
“Did you need more?” I rasp.
She nods.
Our mouths collide in a chaotic sound of thunder and lightning that I refuse to stop. Lights flicker around us until they go out in a burst of flames and glory. I tug her by the hair giving me more access to her neck, the air’s thick with the sound of our heartbeats slamming against our chests, fighting to match one another. In all my existence, I’ve never felt such pent-up passion dying to break through from another being, and I’ve never wanted so desperately to be the one to do the breaking.
Cleo’s still pressed back against the slab in utter darkness except for the torch next to the door that illuminates her beautiful face, her fathomless eyes, green and blue, a sign she’s seen every day of her life and ignored. They’re all the same, and I needed that reminder more than I realize.
I’m staring down at her.
“Show me,” she whispers, lips red, swollen, and lightly wet from my mouth. I reach up and touch her bottom lip, out of breath, slightly dizzy, and feeling like I’ve just stepped off a cliff not knowing if I’ll stick the landing or fall into an abyss never to be found again.
I thought the powerful kiss was enough showing, not everyone kisses like a god, but apparently, she needs more. I lean down and press one more kiss against her lips. “Such a pity you won’t remember this in the morning.” I say the words against the silkiness of her mouth, my tongue reaches out and licks her bottom lip before I pull away.
“What?”
“Us.”
I snap my fingers and roll my wrist over her face twice before her eyes go white.
And I know where she goes.
It’s hell.
It’s heaven.
The in-between.
She will suffer.
But at least, finally, she’ll see.
CHAPTER 18
CLEO
“Often it is what happens to most others will happen to you.” — Eyrbyggja Saga, ch. 32
The sea moves like a harsh hand going back and forth, stirring in violent circles and waves. Over and over, it crashes against the long ship, spilling onto my bare feet. I have ropes of metal and other trinkets wrapped around both ankles, and one tiny bell attached to the wraps on my right foot.