Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 623(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Me: I’m fine. Getting a cast. Making sure it’s black. Like my soul.
Rosie: How are your eyebrows? Mine didn’t fare well.
Me: Are you okay? Is everyone else? Bex? And RIP to your eyebrows. But if that’s the only funeral we’ll be planning, then their sacrifice was worth it. I may wear black a lot, but that isn’t because I’m expecting any more of this shit.
Rosie: Chill, dude. Everyone is fine. Though Bex ruined her jeans and lost a shoe.
Me: Bummer.
Rosie: I know. But you did miss an epic speech about how we’re all diamonds and Bex managed to sass her way out of lockdown. Even I couldn’t do that. I’ve been trying for two decades. I think she’s my new girl crush.
I smiled down at my phone, happy that everyone was okay but worried too. This was an act of war. And the Sons of Templar didn’t respond well to those. Especially when the women could get hurt. They got serious about that.
There would be blood.
Laurie’s face came to mind, unbidden, and a lance went through my heart, much more severe than the gentle tenderness in my wrist when the two were compared.
“You’ll need to stop texting now,” the doctor informed me, his voice clipped.
I snapped my gaze up from my phone, wiping my face of the errant tear that decided to rebel and not stay contained in my eyes.
Keltan, who had been silently resting on the wall, arms crossed, face like thunder, immediately pushed off.
“Lucy,” he said urgently, nearly shouldering the doctor out of the way. His eyes scanned mine. “Where are you hurt?” He glared up at the man in the white coat who paled when faced with Keltan’s glower.
“What did you fuckin’ miss?” Keltan demanded.
I laughed. Not a happy one. Maybe slightly hysterical. At the whole situation. At Keltan demanding the doctor fix the reason for my tears. Emotional wounds couldn’t be fixed by science. If they could, life would be a lot different. As would death, I reasoned.
“It’s not something that he missed,” I told Keltan sharply, cursing myself for my vulnerability in front of an alpha male. They sniffed it out like muscle supplements. It was catnip to them. Give a muscled man with caveman tendencies a woman who needed saving and you gave him his goal for the next however long it took to get her into bed or save her.
Keltan had already gotten me into bed, so it looked like he was still trying to save me, despite all his previous words that I was going to be the one doing that.
Maybe neither of us could.
“I’m fine,” I said firmly. “Now, could you let the doctor do his job so he can give me some wonderful painkillers and I can go home, have a bottle of wine and then check on my friends?”
Keltan stared at me, crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles flexing as he did so. He didn’t look convinced. He looked at me like he wasn’t seeing me. He was seeing into me.
And that was more dangerous than usual, considering chaos was closer to the surface than usual.
“I do not recommend drinking alcohol with the pain medication I’m going to be giving to you,” the doctor piped up.
I rose my brow at him. “I wouldn’t recommend being a handful of feet away from a car bomb either, but I was. I think I’ll survive mixing Ambien with a glass of pinot.”
Keltan glared at me. “She won’t mix them,” he muttered.
Little did he know. He would not be around to monitor it. I’d make sure of it.
Now why did that thought scare me more than the thought of not having wine at the end of this day?
“Okay, thanks for… running towards a car bomb for me and shielding me with your body against the explosion, and then driving me home,” I said awkwardly, glancing across the cab of the truck at him. I fingered the plaster on my cast with my free hand. The weight of everything, including the email, was heavy.
He had just parked at the curb outside my house. Not many words had been spoken since I got my cast on. Just worried glances. I would’ve preferred the words. The comfortable yet loaded silence was scaring me, because I had to get out of my car and into the silent silence of my house. The thought had me putting off getting out of the truck. Well, that and the man sitting in the driver seat.
“Didn’t protect you well enough,” he grunted, eyes on my arm.
I glanced down in the same direction, then back up. “Well, even though it’s covered in an accessory that won’t go with my usual style, I still actually have an arm. You know, instead of getting it blown off. So, I think you did okay, soldier.” My voice was softer, and nowhere near blank.