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)
No. No! “I did not absorb him.” But now he wondered... Isla claimed she’d spoken to a prisoner he’d hidden from himself. Could it be her own father?
“Are you sure?” Rowan asked. “Because I’ve seen his face. Have you?”
Laban...in his mind... No, Roux thought again, shaking his head. “Prove it.” His twin had been a trickster in life, and he remained so in death.
“I don’t have to prove anything. The suspicion alone will drive you mad. But sure. I’ll keep playing this game. How about this? His cell door is open, allowing him to come and go as he pleases. He’s there now. Just down that hall in cell block D.” Rowan hiked his thumb to the right. “Visit him. If you dare.”
Roux’s gaze darted in that direction, where a wall of thick shadows hid what lay behind. He could navigate the twisting, winding corridors, but odds were good he’d lose track of time as well as the world around him. Here, now, he had only moments to spare. More than that, he wasn’t sure he wanted verification.
How would Blythe react to knowing beyond any doubt that Laban lived in Roux’s head, and that was the only reason she had desired him? If she hadn’t faked her desire for him.
Would she resent him? How could she not?
Would she demand he find a way to free the male? Again, how could she not?
Would she leave him if he succeeded? Or hate him even more if he failed?
Would she think of Laban whenever Roux claimed her body?
Dread pricked his nape, and sickness filled his stomach. To risk his mission now... No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. And without verification, he shouldn’t mention it to Blythe. Just in case Rowan lied. Yes, yes. All reasonable. Perfectly understandable. But how could he not tell her?
Roux had made so many mistakes with her already. Could he truly afford to make another?
Rowan leaned his shoulder against the bars. “You’re going to lose her, you know? You are a clone, brother. Nothing but an experiment gone wrong. You were never meant to exist. The only purpose you served died when you murdered Father.”
Words he’d heard before. Words he’d pondered throughout the whole of his life. Until Blythe. The woman he’d just tortured for information—the woman whose consort might be stuck in Roux’s head. The very reason she might consider him a consort.
Might? Ha. The other male must be here, and she must perceive him. Nothing else made sense.
Roux did not wish to share her with anyone. “Why do you hate me so much?”
“Why do you hate yourself so much?”
He bared his teeth rather than offer an answer. “You lived a life of luxury while I suffered in agony. You had the adoration of Mars, and I had his disdain. You could have been a bright light to me, yet you chose to be more darkness. Why?”
The boy lifted his shoulders in another negligent shrug. “I accepted what you couldn’t, I suppose.”
“And what was that?”
“Only one of us was meant to survive. Father knew it, too. I think he hoped to prove himself the strongest of us. In that, however, he certainly bombed. Just as you will bomb with the female.”
“I will not. I will fight for her, and I will win her.” He jolted. Yes. Decision made. He would have her. Keep her. Find some semblance of joy in his life. He only wished he’d hidden it from his brother.
Roux backed away from the cell then. Looked like he’d be dealing with her whether he was ready to do so or not.
She’d said she wouldn’t blame him for inflicting pain upon her. No tears. No accusations. Maybe she’d spoken true. But how would she react to the truth about Laban? Would Roux lose her for good?
“Where are you going?” Rowan asked with another grin. “Why are you going? Was it something I said?”
Roux blinked open his eyes, the hearth-lit bedroom coming into view. He was panting. Sweat bathed him. He still held the harpy, but his grip had tightened. Can’t lose her. Just...can’t.
* * *
Blythe awoke with a start, gasping. Took a moment for her mind to switch from off to on. Sunlight illuminated the ceiling of her bedroom in Ation. She lay in bed with Roux. The Astra rested on his side and peered at her; his expression contorted with strain. The most he’d ever demonstrated.
She rolled toward him, instantly concerned, and cupped his strong jaw. “What’s wrong, babe? Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”
He croaked, “I am so sorry.”
He was sorry? But why? What—Her brow wrinkled. Wait. Memories returned in a snap. The tournament. The torture session. The something that had bothered her suddenly crystalized, and she sucked in a breath, jolting upright. Only then did she notice the destruction surrounding her.
Every piece of furniture except the bed and her wardrobe had been demolished. Holes littered the walls. Panels had been ripped out of the floor. Someone had thrown a nasty temper mantrum.