Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Kaysar.
Her brother stood a shout away. He’d arrived early. With a woman. An employee? A paramour? A friend or ally? A wife?
Did he have a new family to love and cherish?
Tears welling, limbs quaking, Viori pressed as flat as possible against the tent, without upending the entire structure. Her brother had come through a mystical doorway. Opened by the pink-haired female? Was she a rare fae able to conjure portals between worlds and within realms at will?
“I do so enjoy when our Eye outsees other eyes,” he said, amused.
That oh, so beloved voice hit her awareness, a battering ram to her veneer of calm. She fought a sob. Once, that voice had promised all would be well. But nothing had ended well. Not for her brother. Not for her.
Viori shut her eyes to block horrifying memories of starvation, isolation and fear. Of fleeing danger. Never belonging. Always wishing.
“Ah. Micah,” Kaysar said, and she jolted. The king had arrived? “So good of you to greet us personally. Belated courtesy that it is. If you think to defeat me, you should slay your current oracle and imprison yourself a better one.”
“Kaysar. Cookie,” Micah said, ignoring the taunt. “Feel free to serenade us with your favorite song. We won’t mind.”
Viori’s brow wrinkled. While Kaysar’s voice had only deepened during the passage of centuries, Micah’s had altered in multiple ways in a matter of minutes. Flatter. Zero emotion. Each syllable overenunciated.
A chill skittered along her spine, and she stole a quick look around the tent. Oh, wow. This male wasn’t the boy who’d given her jewels or the leader who’d provided her with a feast. Here stood a warrior without mercy. The type of fae she’d always avoided—or killed at first opportunity. Tall, muscled and hooded.
“You expected an attack, so you deafened yourself again,” the woman said. The doormaker must be this Cookie. But what did she mean, Micah had deafened himself again? “I’m offended. As if I would kill you today. You know I prefer to toy with my victims first.” A scolding tinged her words. And her accent... Southern? Did that mean she was human and hailed from the mortal world? How did she have power then?
Viori stole another quick peek at the group, concentrating on Cookie. A short, curvy beauty with pale skin and eyes of green and silver. Fine boned, like a doll. Definitely fae, not human. Kaysar remained beside her, with a strong arm draped around her waist. Metal claws tipped his fingers and gently tapped her hip bone. A romantic hold.
Viori wracked her brain. Last she’d heard, her brother eschewed matters of the heart.
He chuckled, a sound she’d missed more than anything, everything, and a hoarse croak leaked from her. She slapped a hand over her mouth and held her breath, lest she utter another sound. Had anyone heard?
Heartbeat. Heartbeat. Heartbeat.
In the stillness, longing she’d never been able to shed sharpened. She must prove herself worthy of this male. Must help him in some way. Then she could see him. Might be able to hug him. Finally!
Inhale. Exhale. No shouts of alarm. No footsteps.
“Why are you here?” Micah asked.
“You’re right,” Cookie replied with a cheerful tone. “Business first. Fun and games after.” A pause, clothing rustling. “Go ahead, baby. Tell him.”
Kaysar—baby—didn’t hesitate. “It seems our beloved Pearl Jean hasn’t gotten over her—What’s the term you used, pet?”
“Crush,” Cookie told him.
“Ah, yes. That. Her crush.” Kaysar’s words seemed to contain a smile. “I remember hearing a mention of buns of steel and abs of iron. After numerous temper tantrums and bouts of pleading, she has convinced me to grant her request and offer you an erotic time-out. Her words, not mine.”
Phrases Viori understood. Was this Pearl Jean human?
Kaysar continued, “Here are my terms. You’ll surrender, swear your eternal fealty to my family and agree to do whatever Pearl Jean asks of you. In return, I won’t make you watch as I destroy everything you hold dear the moment our truce ends.”
The more he spoke, the harsher he sounded, until even Viori quaked with fear.
“I look forward to your attempts,” Micah said.
She thought she heard a smile in his voice as well. He truly believed he could emerge the victor.
Could he?
Foreboding prickled Viori’s nape. Air hitched in her lungs, a decision solidifying in her mind. She would remain in camp. Study Micah up close and personal. Discover his strengths and weaknesses and sabotage any schemes he crafted. Meanwhile, she would play either the part of furious captive, or besotted vixen. The latter attacked first and often. The former flirted and charmed.
Only female in the vicinity, Majesty?
Her nails sharpened into claws. They’d find out. If she decided to venture that route. Thanks to Laken, she’d learned how to flirt from a master.
As soon as Micah returned to the tent, she would decide the direction to travel based on his treatment of her. Afterward, she’d find a way to send a message to her babies. Should be easy to do, considering only three words were needed.