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)
Go to him!
The command thundered inside her head, making her spine shoot ramrod straight. When the inner warning blasted a second time, her wings buzzed, and she dropped the briefs she hadn’t realized she’d carried.
Urgency acted as a lashing whip. Where had he gone? She raced for the door only to grind to a stop mid-way. Playing hide-and-seek would waste time she didn’t have. There was no reason to physically chase him down when her father had taught her how to merge her inner eye with someone else’s outer ones. A skill known as Peering. It was something anyone could do with practice, not just an oracle.
The act required a boatload of energy she didn’t wish to expend right now, but honestly, it was her best option. So much at stake...
Decision made. Shutting her lids, she let her stream of consciousness flow from her being and slip through the palace, on the hunt for Rathbone. His essence drew her down, down, down...
Hmm. Though Neeka used every trick in her playbook, she failed to merge with him. Mental blockades and barriers abounded. Unwilling to give up, she persevered, slithering around, searching for the slightest crack in his defenses. Oh, oh, oh. Was that a fissure? She approached slowly, then contorted this way and that to push through. Pain wracked her until...click.
Relief drizzled over her as Rathbone’s perception became hers. And oh, wow. This was how he and his many eyes—err, mátia viewed the world? There’d be no sneaking up on him, that was for sure. He saw absolutely everything. Specks of dust. The slightest flicker of torchlight. The barest slither of a shadow. No detail was too infinitesimal.
She took stock. He occupied his special throne room. Wait. Shock punched Neeka. The dark-haired beauty from her vision. Lore. She was here. Alive. No, in spirit form.
The king prowled a circle around the goddess, desperate to make contact. He swiped out his arm once, twice, attempting to clasp her to no avail. Growls rumbled in his chest—Neeka felt the vibration in her own chest and marveled anew. She’d connected with other immortals in the past, but never to this extent. Never so attuned to someone’s reactions.
Lore sobbed, and he halted with a curse, giving Neeka a chance to better study her new nemesis.
Hmm. The crying goddess might lack the zest of the cold, sinister killer she’d seen in the vision, but the two bore the same face and come-hither vibe. Goodness gracious, did Lore exude a come-hither vibe.
In seconds, Neeka was panting. She might just climb the next man she came across. Even Big Red.
“Please,” the goddess sobbed, and Neeka gasped again. She could hear through Rathbone’s ears! The first sound she’d detected in forever. “My killer’s name is Azar. He bought my skull eons ago, and he’s carted me from world to world ever since. Until yesterday, when he cast me into the sea.”
“The Astra,” Rathbone snapped, and oh, his voice! Deep and rough. Hard and tough. Magnificent. A caress to each of Neeka’s cells.
Warm shivers deluged her spine. Of apprehension, not attraction. Obviously. No doubt he planned to unleash his wrath against his enemy ASAP. Would he expect Neeka’s aid? Or fire her if she didn’t produce another bone today?
“Why rid himself of your skull if he requires the entire skeleton?” he demanded of Lore. “There must be a reason.”
“Azar wanted you to find me.” Fat tears left pink trails on the goddess’s pale cheeks. “He’s using the skull to track me, intending to steal everything you’ve collected.”
“He might learn your location, but he’ll reach you.” The vow smoldered with rage, causing the goddess to cry harder.
“He won’t stop, Rathbone. Every five hundred years, he and his brethren must complete the vilest of tasks. It’s how they earn a victory blessing. He murdered me for a task, and he hopes to repeat his success. Tell me you’ll do whatever it takes to save me, and I’ll believe you. There’s no one stronger than my male.”
“I will do whatever it takes,” the king snarled. “Anything. Everything.”
Oh, yeah. He planned to launch an attack. Aggression flooded Neeka’s body. Her own, as well as the excess spilling from Rathbone. Any male in such an agitated state would absolutely fire his oracle for a failure to produce.
She couldn’t let that happen. For the time being, she required unfettered access to him and Lore. Was the goddess an evil vessel for shadow monsters or an unwitting victim?
Dang it, either way, good ole Neeks had to go and make herself invaluable to the king once again. Presenting him with a second bone should showcase her astounding ability and prove her unparalleled worth. Not to mention the ferocity of her fake loyalty to him.
Yes, it was a risky move, but it kept her in the game. Also, there’d be three bones left. More than enough to stop Lore. On the other hand, the move wasn’t that risky, considering Neeka planned to destroy the entire skeleton before the final bone was found.