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)
—I would rather you didn’t.—
“Fine!” she burst out for Rathbone’s benefit. “I’ll bruise you every twenty seconds.”
“Guards! Guards!” Maximus increased his struggles. “You will die screaming.”
“Now where have I heard that threat before?” Neeka raised her fist...
“Do not harm him,” someone commanded behind them.
She punched the kid a third time before tossing a casual glance over her shoulder. The grandmother? Beautiful, with dark hair, pale skin, and vibrant blue eyes, wearing an ivory ball gown.
—Hera.—A growl sounded inside Neeka’s head moments before Rathbone materialized at her side. Fury radiated from him.
This was Hera?
Hold up. Did he know Lore could totally pass for Hera’s sister? “Oh, baby doll,” Neeka whispered under her breath, “you really do have mommy issues that rival mine.” No wonder he’d been clinging to a future with the female so staunchly.
Maximus ceased struggling. Neeka switched her attention to him just in time to see him mouth the words My father.
Her stomach churned, the urge to spank the little punk fading. Had he spent the bulk of his life wondering about his dad?
“He’s so strong,” the boy said, his expression reverent.
She sprang up, freeing him. He scrambled to his feet, his gaze remaining locked on Rathbone.
“You stole from me,” Rathbone snarled at his mother, making Neeka shudder. Never had she encountered such loathing.
Hera lifted her nose higher in the air. “I’m surprised you found us, considering you are so consumed with your own life.”
“I am so consumed?” The questions lashed from him. “Me?”
Neeka reached out to link her fingers with Rathbone’s. He squeezed her, as if holding on for survival. She squeezed him right back.
“The clues were there,” Hera said, her expression snippy. “It’s not my fault you were unable to see them. As for the bone, you’re too late. Earlier this morn, your companion’s younger sister came with your wife to collect it.”
Neeka’s hackles flared. Younger sister? The nerve of this goddess! And oh! She hated, hated, hated that her mother had beaten her here.
Tension turned Rathbone into a pillar of stone. “I’ll be taking the boy with me and undoing whatever was done to keep him this age.”
“You won’t.” Hera smiled at him, as smug as Maximus had been. “Precautions have already been taken.” A second later, everyone but Rathbone and Neeka vanished.
Rathbone remained statue still for several beats before cursing. He flashed her to his bedroom in the Realm of Agonies. Guess they were done with the Realm of the Forgotten. Which mattered because...she couldn’t recall. Oh, well.
“I’ll get him back, and I’ll steal the bone from Grenwich,” she promised. “I’ll also find the remaining bones. She won’t beat me again. In the meantime, we should probably talk about what happ—”
“I’m going to refortify the defenses,” he interjected, keeping his gaze anywhere but on her. He said nothing more before flashing away, leaving her alone.
Knees knocking, she sank onto the edge of his bed. Poor Rathbone. So many shocks today. Almost dying. Learning he had a son. Losing said son. Temporarily misplacing a bone. Finding out his wife had helped his most hated enemy for reasons Neeka had already discerned. A new worry thrown on the mounting heap.
According to the visions, the goddess partnered with Erebus. Like the Astra, the Deathless desired Lore’s resurrection. They hoped to kill her at the final ceremony, but the god intended for her to birth those hideous flesh-eaters. Ergo, Lore would do anything necessary to aid the Astra in their quest. Should have guessed.
Had Rathbone begun to accept the truth? Should she tell him everything? Was he ready to hear it?
What if he kicked her to the curb? She hadn’t been part of the ceremony in either vision, so, something took her out of the game along the way.
Better to wait. To gain some assurances.
She withdrew the elixir from her garter, the thick liquid swishing inside. The best assurance in town. Should she risk losing a genuine connection? Shouldn’t she?
With the lives of harpies and Rathbone on the line, she should be willing to risk anything. So. Decision made. They would both drink and boom, their bond would solidify. He would be compelled to do whatever she asked.
Driven by instinct, she marched to the decanter of whiskey at the wet bar, unstopped the vial, and poured the contents inside. Trembling, she prepared two glasses...and drained one without thinking. Oops. The liquid burned going down. Burned hotter as it spread through the rest of her. Cells fizzed and popped. Well. There was no going back now. She’d ingested the elixir, and it couldn’t be undone.
She refilled the glass, willing to ingest a second round when Rathbone enjoyed his first. Double the power, right? With nothing left to do, she sat at the edge of the bed and awaited his return.
How much time passed before he reappeared, she didn’t know. But when he did, she was a mess of uncertainty. He was a mess, period, both sweaty and bloody. He spotted her, his mátia locking on her, noticed the waiting glass and scowled.