Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Maximus pretended to dry heave. “Congrats, you just made dying in three days a relief.”
“What? You’re the one who told me to take my shirt off two seconds after meeting me. I thought you were on board with frank speech.”
“I’ll be out completing my bucket list. Do try to be quiet.” He stomped past the door, gone.
Alone with her male, Neeka fit the covers over Rathbone’s big, beautiful body and caressed his brow. “You better scream your love for me at the ceremony and not her. Because you do love me,” she told him, in case he hadn’t yet realized it.
He didn’t awaken, but his thrashing eased.
Prickles erupted on the back of her neck, and they weren’t the good kind. On instant alert, she spun, claws bared, ready to attack and defend. A female appeared, an ivory ball gown clinging to sensuous curves—Lore in the flesh, no longer confined to her spirit.
She was uninjured and unbound, and Neeka didn’t have to wonder how she’d bypassed the realm’s defenses. Long ago, Rathbone had tailored the place to her.
Dread slithered around Neeka. One of the three linked visions had come to pass, making the future of doom less likely to undergo change.
The goddess offered a smug smile. Glitter sparkled on her jawline as if—Neeka sucked in a breath.
“Stardust,” Lore confirmed with bite.
Azar had already marked her. The dread tightened its hold, cutting off Neeka’s airway. There was no way the Astra would harm her now. Not for any reason.
“Don’t worry,” the goddess said, adopting a breezy tone. “I’m not here to kill you. It’s much more fun to make others do my dirty work, then watch them agonize over their actions. I’m merely here to check on our king.”
“My king,” Neeka grated. All mine.
“Possessive of him, I see.” Her uninvited guest sauntered about the room, trailing her fingertips over this and that. “Well, one woman’s trash is another’s treasure, I suppose.”
She ran her tongue over her teeth. “Why are you like this? Shouldn’t you be sweet? Aren’t you the epitome of desire?”
“I am indeed. But if you’re not careful, your desires can turn against you.”
It sucked that the incubator of evil wasn’t wrong. “I suggest you say what you came to say and go,” she snapped. “Being a spirit saved you from my wrath. But you aren’t a spirit anymore. We can throw down.” Though she would have to abandon her post at Rathbone’s side to fight. Should she?
“I hope you do attack me,” Lore said with a grin, as if she recognized something Neeka did not. “After our little Q and A session. You do have questions for me, do you not?”
Oh, she had questions all right. “How did you open the orb without Rathbone?” What had she missed?
“Oh. That. Daisy is on my payroll. Erebus predicted you would utilize her and we acted. I’m surprised you didn’t realize the truth from the start.”
“Me too,” she admitted. No wonder Daisy had bargained to stay with them. How better to spy? But why hadn’t Neeka realized the truth? She’d experienced zero twinges of warning. “How did you enslave Azar?”
“Easily. I convinced him we were life mates, the same way I convinced Rathbone and Styx and each male before them. The Astra was such delectable putty in my hands, willing to do anything I suggested. Even perform an ancient ritual to join our lives. But, oops, that isn’t what I taught him to do. I tricked him into binding his will to mine.”
So evil! And kind of brilliant. “Okay, you can go now.” Giving the monster-spawner other opportunities to brag wasn’t on today’s to do list. “I have no more questions.”
“Well, then. Before I head off to prepare for the arrival of my dearlings,” Lore said, making her way to the wet bar, where she poured two glasses of whiskey, “let’s toast to my victory.”
“No!” Oh, no, no, no. The elixir! The concoction able to create a bond so strong it eclipsed that of fated ones. Days ago, instinct had led Neeka to pour the stuff into the decanter. “Don’t drink that.” She had no idea how the concoction worked, what side effects she would unleash upon herself, or what it would do to her connection with Rathbone.
As she rushed over, an extra smug Lore downed her glass, emptying the contents. “Mmm. Tasty.” The goddess licked a final droplet from the rim.
Neeka’s stomach sank. Why, why, why had instinct led her to partake? Now the elixir had a grip on them both.
How soon would the bond kick in?
She grew stiffer as seconds bled together and nothing happened. Not to Neeka, and not to her companion. Confusion set in. Had she missed an ingredient? Was the recipe a dud?
Wait. The recipe said to drink and bake. But for how long? Days? Weeks? Months? When would a connection to the goddess attempt to override her connection to Rathbone?