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)
Why so determined to remain alone? And why did he desire other women despite being wed to a fated wife? Why had Lore encouraged it rather than keeping him all to herself, as Neeka intended to do with her consort?
Rathbone ground his teeth. The last two questions had the same obvious answer. Because they were gods, their thoughts on a higher level than those of a common immortal. So why did his nerves remain pricked?
“While you did your top-notch oracling,” he grated, “did you happen to locate another bone?”
“No, but I’m on the cusp, probably. I just need to connect with your love story, as previously mentioned.” Twisting a fallen lock of hair around her finger, she batted that thick fan of lashes at him. “About your stable—”
“No more talk of the stable. I want results.”
“Sure, sure,” she muttered, sliding her gaze from him, effectively ending the conversation. “Oh! How wonderful.”
She skipped across the room to trace an anatomically correct heart hidden within the wall mosaic he’d designed and mounted himself. Another of his romantic gestures.
Watching her elegant fingers graze the image drew another growl from him. What is she doing to me?
Neeka turned to waggle her brows in his direction. “My kingdom must have this pattern in every room, or I’ll revolt.”
She liked his work that much? Something warm and soft unfurled in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, only to remain quiet when he sensed the impending arrival of an ally. Since he acknowledged a single ally, he pivoted toward the door, awaiting Hades’s entrance.
The other king materialized in the open frame, wearing a perfectly tailored three-piece suit.
“Hello, Uncle,” he said. Though he’d never tried to hide their familial connection, few beings recognized it. Fewer still knew Hera, Hades’s sister, had birthed Rathbone. She’d never cared enough to claim him publicly.
His lungs squeezed.
“Don’t ‘hello uncle’ me. You have five seconds to—” Hades noticed Neeka and went quiet. When his dark gaze returned to Rathbone, he arched a brow in question.
The sovereign’s appearance hadn’t changed a bit over the centuries. But then, neither had Rathbone’s. In disposition, however, they’d both transformed. While Hades had mellowed, his temper becoming harder to prick, Rathbone had graduated from an eager youth desperate to prove himself worthy of his royal status to a warrior assured of his power.
“I hired her,” he explained.
“And she agreed to be hired?” Hades asked with a chiding tone. “Willingly?”
“She did,” Neeka responded, whirling away to dig through Rathbone’s sock drawer. “Even though she’s being discussed as if she isn’t in the room, an activity sure to set her nerves—and therefore your lives—on edge.”
Rathbone tracked her with his gaze, ensnared by the gracefulness of her movements as she aimed for his desk to rifle through a stack of papers. By the mystery she presented. The challenge.
“Have you forgotten I’m here, Nephew?”
He blinked with surprise. Yes, he had. “I can guess. Come. I’ll show you what you wish to see.”
He removed his shirt, freeing the mátia, which immediately jerked to the oracle. Rathbone tossed the material into the hamper near her thigh. He trusted Hades, despite the male’s hatred of Lore, but that wasn’t a reason to relax his guard.
Or he tried to toss the material in the hamper. Neeka caught the garment without facing him, brought the cloth to her nose and sniffed, humming with delight.
Hot, frothing desire gripped him.
“This is humiliating,” Hades muttered. “For you.”
“Come,” Rathbone repeated. Scowling, he flashed to his special throne room.
His uncle appeared in the center of the room, dark gaze zooming to the remains. His lips curled in a cold smile. “Two other bones are in play, after all. And one is the skull, no less.” He raised an invisible champagne glass. “Kudos to you.” The dryness of his timbre belied his words.
“Resign yourself. She’s coming to life. Soon.”
The King of the Dead strode to the throne and attempted to lift Lore’s hand. He proved unsuccessful; exactly as he’d proven unsuccessful in the past, each piece adhered with an unbreakable enchantment. He released a noise of disgust. “Remind me why I like you again.”
“Because I’m extralikable. And family. And because I spy for you whenever you ask nicely.”
“Yes, but I miss the days when you obeyed without hesitation or question.” The royal performed his version of a pout before adjusting a spiked ring on his finger. “I’m supposed to deliver a message from Taliyah Skyhawk, the harpy General, who just happens to be Neeka’s best friend.”
A fact Rathbone had learned during his search for the oracle. Had she tried to hide the information, he definitely probably would’ve locked her in his dungeon rather than hire her. “Let me guess. If I hurt the girl, I’ll suffer.”
A negligent shrug as Hades descended the dais, returning to his side. “Something like that,” the other male said.