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)
Seriously. Focus! She was allowing a killer to touch her, and she was indeed loving every second of it. That was unacceptable.
“Is King Kaysar really so bad?” she asked, utilizing her snottiest tone again. “Or are you really so stubborn?”
“Both.” Did Micah sound less angry now, despite the seriousness of the topic? “How long have you aided the Unhinged One?”
Careful. “I knew him as a child. We were friends once.” Deep breath in. Out. “We grew up in the same village, but haven’t spoken since...” A lump grew in her throat. “Not since I m-murdered his parents.”
She’d admitted as much before, yet the statement seemed to shock him. His fingers flexed on her again.
“Now,” she finished, “I owe him a debt.”
“And you decided to make me the key to its payment,” Micah concluded.
The truth, and yet the implication turned every word into a lie. Her only response? “Mmm-hmm. You are.”
“You realize you sacrificed your children for the sake of a past you cannot change and a male who will never thank you, yes?” His voice hardened. “And do you know what it will get you in the end? Grief.”
Chills rained through her, and all she wanted to do was curl into a ball. “You don’t understand. I’ve tried to shed the guilt born from my actions for centuries,” she admitted softly. “I need to shed it. This is the only way.”
His fingers flexed yet again. Finally, though, he softened, as if he did, in fact, comprehend the weight of her clinging guilt. With an almost tender graze against her throat, he told her, “You were a child then. You are a woman fully grown now, yet you are making a far worse mistake.”
“Perhaps. But I can’t let that stop me. I must do this, whatever the cost.”
“Easy to say, difficult to live with after.” He wrapped a hand around her neck, anchoring his thumb beneath her chin and spreading his fingers to cover as much ground as possible. Applying pressure, he tilted her head to an uncomfortable angle to force her to meet his gaze.
Though he appeared upside down, he was no less intimidating. Actually, he was more than intimidating. He was more everything. Aggressive. Angry. Gentle. Tender. Contradictory in every way.
“How often have you visited the mortal world?” he asked.
“Ten times or so.” But rarely in chronological order. Her doorways cut through time as much as space.
“Why go? What’s there?”
Chaos. Cruelty. Danger. Pain. Padded cells. “I have children there, too,” she replied softly. One day, she hoped to bring them to the fae world.
She and Micah stared at each other for a long while, everything wrong but somehow right, and it was maddening. She didn’t know what to think or feel anymore. The story of her life.
“I would have been good to you,” he said, using that flat tone, “if you had only let me.”
Sadness washed over her, thicker than the water. Colder, too. Before she could stop it, more truth spilled from her lips. “You might have tried to be good for a time, but in the end, you would have failed. Nothing lasts forever, Micah. Nothing.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MICAH GLARED AT the female who had become a fever in his veins. He wanted her more than ever. Ached for her so badly, he could barely think of anything else. Daydreamed of enjoying the fate she’d taken from him.
Remember her crimes against you.
Remembering wasn’t the problem. He now struggled to make those crimes matter. His resistance to her? Deteriorating fast and soon to shatter. Inside him, pressure mounted. Scraped raw.
As they continued to stare at each other, her sadness receded. Awareness crackled in the air between them. His breath turned shallow. Hers did, too.
Did she fake this? She must. Except, her pulse raced beneath his palm.
Perhaps she suffered with the same problem he did, craving what she shouldn’t. Perhaps he could have what she’d almost given him before, even though they were at war. It didn’t have to mean anything. They could help each other. Scratch an itch that tormented them both. Momentary satisfaction, easily forgotten...followed by deeper discontent?
No, he knew better than to travel this road. What he wanted was never what he needed. As his life had proved time and time again.
Fuel drizzled over the fires of his fury, snapping and popping. Steam enveloped his mind. Suddenly, he wasn’t struggling to make her crimes matter. Those crimes mattered greatly. She had given him hope for a bright future. Made him long for what he’d never had, resurrecting old dreams that refused to die a second time. He hated her for it. And yet...the view...
She is exquisite. For now, she is mine. And he was falling right back under her spell of enchantment. But he didn’t think he cared. No female should be this lovely. All that golden skin flushed and sunlit, glistening with water droplets, as otherworldly as the first time he’d spied it, all but beckoning his fingers. Touch...