Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
The heat worsened as he returned to the bed, the swatch of material in hand. Ignore it. He traded her bloody garment for the clean one, never allowing himself to gaze anywhere but the pillow. A feat requiring every ounce of his strength. Still the heat increased.
The second he finished his chore, he exited the force field of her unnatural appeal and sank into the chair near the hearth. Only then did he let himself peer at her. And peer at her he did, unwavering, planning to spring up at the first sign of wakefulness. Because...just because.
He kept his gaze glued to her even as he dug into the pack, removing a dagger and stone. After dropping the bag at his feet, he sharpened the already sharp blade. For hours. Watching. Waiting. Wondering who he was soon to face. The snuggler who rubbed against him for comfort or the she-beast who fought as if she would happily die as long as she took her enemy with her.
She stretched atop the mattress. Roux froze rather than spring up. He held his breath as she eased into a sitting position. Baby blues glided over the room, slid over him, then darted back and widened. He expected a spill of black over her irises. The blue lingered.
Hope bloomed. Was he soon to interact with the snuggler?
“Are you my consort? You must be. I slept in your presence, and you’re so familiar,” she said with a soft tone.
She had no memory? “I believe your kind makes an exception for harpies near death.”
“I neared death?” Moaning, she massaged her temples. “This song...what is it hiding?”
She didn’t remember because of a song? But why would the siren—the answer crystalized before the question fully formed. Of course the siren had manipulated Blythe’s memory. To stop the wraith from utilizing the ruby, draining the harphantom at a time she needed to heal to survive, the siren had to take control of her emotions.
“I am...Roux,” he said, offering nothing more. How should he handle this? Her?
“Roux,” she echoed. She traced her gaze over him, radiating curiosity and, dare he believe it, attraction? “Are your tattoos moving?”
He glanced down, and sure enough. The alevala moved, as if he waged war inside himself.
Reeling, he dropped the weapon and tool, dug a shirt from the pack, and yanked the material over his head. A type of armor for them both. He needed a barrier against the torment of her gaze, and she needed to not get trapped in his past.
“Well, that wasn’t very nice, now, was it?” she chided. Half pouting, half smiling, she stood to steady legs. In a beam of light, the blue gown revealed more than it concealed. Her curves—he wiped his mouth.
Pure grace, she approached him, hips swaying, slits parting in the skirt, revealing hints of her thighs.
Sweat beaded on his brow. He couldn’t...he shouldn’t...
A scream exploded from the back of his mind. Jaw clenched, he gripped the arms of his chair. The mental interruption came from the escapee he’d noticed at the tea party with Isla. Someone he needed to capture and imprison at last. But miss this moment of comradery with Blythe to do so? No.
All sensual grace, the harphantom eased onto the ottoman in front of him. “Did something happen to me?”
He gave a slow, solo nod, afraid of startling her, reminding her of her hatred for him. “What’s the last thing you recall?”
“I know I’m a harpy and a phantom, my name is Blythe the Undoing, I have a daughter named Isla, and I’m working to become General. Although, I can’t become General with a child. So what am I missing?” Her brow furrowed. “I see flashes of you getting your smolder on but not much else.”
No memories of the consort then, despite recalling her child. But what did she mean, Roux’s smolder? “You’re missing a lot. Though it would be easier to lie to you, I’ll be honest. I am not your consort. You despise me.”
“Are you sure? Despise is a strong word.” A teasing smile blossomed as she slid her gaze over him. “Maybe I’ve been flirting with you.”
The chair arms cracked. So badly he longed to reach out and shift a lock of her silken hair between his fingers. “I’m quite sure. On four separate occasions, you’ve extracted at least one of my organs.”
Those ice blue eyes glittered with mirth. A queen of delights, she waved a hand through the air, dismissing his words. “Foreplay, babe. That, I promise you. Judging solely by the book cover, I’m certain you are a story I’ve been eager to read, muscle to muscle.”
The way her voice dipped... He gulped. Once he pried his fingers from the chair, he tugged at the collar of his shirt. She was a playful feast of carnality.
Oh, how Roux dreaded the return of her memory.