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)
“All right, fleabags. Who wants to die first?” she asked.
Tendrils of smoke curled from her skin, as if flames danced just beneath the surface. And mmm. The scent. Sweet and spicy, just like Roux.
Her eyes widened. The stardust was responsible?
The unibeasts snarled at her, gearing to attack. They leaped, and she braced. But at the moment of contact, they jolted and jerked, as if grazed by a cattle prod. They fell to the ground and shook.
Oh, yeah. Definitely caused by the stardust. What an amazing turn of events!
Just how powerful was her new armor? Grinning, Blythe kicked the creature closest to her. Nothing. No reaction. Very powerful.
Roux appeared at her side, waxen and clammy. Her grin vanished. Silent, he gathered her close and flashed to the Oath Stones, where he collapsed to his knees. He looked up at her with wounded, questioning eyes.
“The dagger?”
A lump grew in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she croaked, dropping down to pet him. Fury sparked as she smoothed damp hair from his brow. She would absolutely be killing the wraiths of Ation. “I didn’t find it.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and gave a clipped nod. “Then we try again tomorrow.”
24
THE UNCERTAINTY
The next morning, the fourth day of the tournament, Roux cheered for Blythe from the royal dais. The combatants’ participated in some sort of endurance test known as “jazzercise.” They jumped, kicked, and flailed for almost an entire day.
The fifth challenge started soon after and it, too, stretched on. It was then that Roux clued in. The councilmembers obviously strove to keep him separated from Blythe. And they were succeeding. After the sixth and seventh rounds, he and the harphantom had enough time to catch a swift nap, nothing more. There was no discussing what had happened between them. No touching.
He needed to touch her. To mark and claim her again. To know her desire for him hadn’t waned.
As the eighth battle stretched on, his taut nerves frayed. Blythe raced a dangerous obstacle course alongside nineteen other immortals; tension mounted inside him. Didn’t help that she had a chance to take out Carrigan and Lucca but spared them instead. The two were suspected accomplices of his greatest enemy, yet she showed them mercy? Why? And why did the wraith’s jewel remain firmly entrenched in the hollow of Blythe’s throat?
He didn’t want to doubt her desire for him but...doubt crept in.
What if she had welcomed his touch and eagerly offered her own to trick him? What if she’d faked her pleasure? Was there a better plan? Lure the besotted Astra into a false sense of security, then take him out when he least expected it.
What if she worked behind the scenes to sabotage his task?
By trusting her in any capacity, he risked more than his life. He jeopardized the lives of his brothers. Men he loved. Men who relied on him to do his job. They’d always had his back. Had often put themselves in danger to save him. How could he endanger their futures for anyone, even a gravita?
But how could he not?
Tonka approached him at the edge of the dais and raised the horn to signal the end of the round. Not only did she act as the MC of the event, but she also acted as Roux’s handler. The other members of the welcome party hadn’t bothered to show up today. No doubt they planned an ambush of some kind.
“Your girl’s sure to move on,” the harpy grumbled. “Again.”
“Yes.” And he could not be prouder of her.
Covered in sweat and sand, Blythe swung a sword with expert precision, taking the head of a wolfshifter just before she crossed the obstacle course’s finish line.
The horn’s blare pierced the air. “And that’s a wrap,” Tonka called.
Roux planted his feet, remaining in place, ignoring the urgent urge to flash to his treacherous gravita, gather her close and bend her over their bed. The harphantom remained rooted, too, clutching the blood-soaked sword. She was panting with exertion as she lifted her gaze, peering up at him.
Awareness arced in the space between them. Despite his jumbled mix of emotions, he wasn’t sure he could function without her anymore. He’d tasted of pleasure and peace for the first time in his life, and there was no going backward for him. She was a lifeline, and he refused to let go.
He nodded his approval of her victory, and she blew him a kiss.
“By the way, tonight we’re hosting a dinner to celebrate the combatants who reached the semifinals,” Tonka said.
The tournament had done its job, thinning the herd. From hundreds of Ation citizens to ten semifinalists, including Blythe, plus the nine members of the welcome party, the thirty-nine women who’d chosen not to fight, and the twenty-three wraiths. And those from the villages who hadn’t participated.
“You will come,” Tonka added. A statement, not a question. “You don’t even have to travel far. Food is being served in the conference room on the third floor.”