Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Chapter 42
They told me I was broken. They told me I was flawed.
—Sascha Duncan, cardinal E & defector (2079)
SOLEIL COULD FEEL the tension in Ivan as he walked her back to DarkRiver HQ after she finally ran her errands—which had included some clothes shopping, underwear included. Which of course, she didn’t have on now, since she wasn’t about to slip on intimate clothing without washing it first.
Which meant lots of airflow right up through her dress, to the tender place between her thighs. So tender. She wasn’t the least bit sorry. She’d adored every single instant of what had led to that tenderness. But now their time was over—Ivan wasn’t back to full psychic strength, but she needed to get back to the cubs; it was too soon after her return for her to disappear for an entire day.
Her cat missed them desperately.
She’d made Ivan promise that he wouldn’t set foot on the island without giving her enough time to get back to him, so she could haul him out well before it became dangerous. Never again did she want to see him so motionless and cold, his mind and body in danger of a permanent separation.
It terrified her that he was even going to try again, but as a healer, she understood the drive to help. And she understood that Ivan Mercant was a hero, even though he’d never put it that way; this man wouldn’t ever choose to protect himself at the cost of the lives of others.
She glanced at him on a crashing wave of protective possessiveness. He looked frostily urbane and aloof, her Psy, when she knew he was anything but that with the people he let in. He’d paired the blazer she liked with another black shirt from his wardrobe since she’d shredded his previous one, wore jeans and boots, his hair neatly combed and mirrored sunglasses over his eyes.
He’d hitched her daypack over one shoulder.
Half of her wanted to jump his bones again, while the other half was as tense as a piece of guitar wire. It wasn’t that Ivan had issue with her need to go see the cubs, or even the promise she’d extracted from him. No, what he had an issue with was the fact that he couldn’t drive her back to her territory, his welcome there in serious doubt since their mating bond remained a strange halfway thing. He’d have risked it, but Soleil wasn’t about to—he meant far too much to her.
But when, after another ravenous kiss, she made a move to step inside the HQ, her cat fought her. Hard. Hard enough that she snarled, rebellion and need sparking in every vein and artery.
Cool male fingers closed over her wrist at the same time, and when she whipped back her head to look at him, she saw that Ivan had pulled off his sunglasses to reveal eyes gone a flat black. His fingers tightened, his jaw working, the fabric of his blazer taut across his shoulders. “I’m fighting to release you.” It came out as sharp as a blade.
Her claws already out, she could’ve struck at him, but there would be no point. This wasn’t a one-sided thing. Her cat wasn’t ready to release him, either, the need to hold him a violent compulsion.
A shimmering silver web in her mind, the threads hard and cutting today, ready to form into a cell. The future that Ivan foresaw for himself, his mind encased behind shields so brutal they would savage this man who put his life on the line to save strangers, whose loyalty to his family was absolute … and who would do anything for Soleil.
Ivan Mercant, she understood deep within, had no limits when he loved.
Her cat swiped at the horrific image of the proto-cage, ripping it to shreds as she tugged him closer, until he was close enough that he was able to release her hand. “It’s time to talk to Lucas.”
Eyes yet inky black, Ivan said, “This isn’t normal.” His jaw worked. “My ability … I think it’s wrapped you up in its threads.”
“The holding on is mutual,” she said. “Let’s figure out how to deal with it. Because I refuse to be separated from the cubs or from you.”
They entered the HQ.
The receptionist was a slender young Asian man with a huge smile that faded after he spotted Ivan. “I’ll need to call up.” He’d risen to his feet at their entry, now reached for the comm.
Before he could activate it, however, a familiar figure came down the hallway. The redheaded dominant Soleil had seen on the street—this time with a child in her arms, an auburn-haired toddler in tan shorts and a navy polo-neck tee who was fast asleep on her shoulder, his head turned into her neck and one tiny hand curled up against her chest.