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)
“Do you even know me?” he asked simply.
“Of course I know you! You’re my king, and I’m your goddess. We belong to each other.”
“I hate to interrupt such a heartfelt reunion,” a familiar voice announced, “but some things cannot wait, and this is one of them.”
Rathbone zoomed his gazes to Erebus, who stood bound and bleeding in the center of the room. The realm’s new defenses had held.
Gasping, Lore whooshed behind Rathbone for safeguarding. So unlike Neeka, who would’ve tossed daggers as an icebreaker.
“Well, well. Hello, beauty. So nice to meet you.” The other male smiled a hunter’s smile and inclined his head in greeting before refocusing on Rathbone. “I’ve never steered you wrong, Majesty, and I won’t do so now. You’ll either believe me, or you won’t. Succeed or fail. Ready? To defeat the Astra and save yourself, you must kill the oracle. Otherwise, she’ll kill you.”
* * *
Neeka crawled to shore and collapsed, dripping blood and water all over the crystal sands. Pain clouded her vision. She wheezed every breath. Her abdomen sported gaping wounds, and a leg ended in a gushing stump. She’d fed a shark her beautiful foot. A harmaid had lopped off two of her fingers.
She would’ve lost more if a kindly whale hadn’t swallowed her whole and carried her a mile from shore, where he’d spit her out. Healing was impossible, considering she wore the wing pinner. As soon as it was removed and she drank a gallon of blood, she’d be as good as new. Probably gooder. Or better. Whatever. Oh, she hurt!
A nest of harpies came from every direction, reaching her in seconds. Gentle hands rolled her over and began patching her wounds.
She blinked rapidly, her sight clearing. Concerned expressions morphed to horror as her helpers registered her identity.
“Do you know who this is?” one said. “Neeka the Unwanted!”
“Traitor!”
“The General will want the honor of slaying her.”
Yes, yes. Take her to the General. She tried to utter her agreement, but the words lodged in her throat.
Rough hands and sharp claws gripped her by the hair. She was dragged across the shore. Sand burned her wounds. Neeka persevered because what else could she do? Eventually, they reached the palace.
She darted her gaze over the growing crowd as her guards bragged about her capture.
“Death to Neeka!” the sisterhood chanted.
When the group parted, creating a gap, hope bloomed anew. Had Taliyah arrived?
The one holding her hair released her and stepped away, and Neeka’s head smacked into the floor. A flare of pain. She groaned. Too weak to rise, she could only lie still as booted feet approached.
Azar crouched beside her, resting his forearms on his knees. “You’ve caused us nothing but trouble,” he stated, “and if you were anyone else, you’d be dead already.”
Again she tried to speak, but she suspected only garbled noises escaped. Blood followed on their heels. Lots and lots of blood. The liquid streamed from the corners of her mouth.
The Astra maneuvered her to a supine position before slicing his wrist. Skin split and crimson welled. He held the wound over her lips. Scorching blood dripped onto her tongue, sweet and strong. Power flooded her in a rush, amazing and wonderful and terrible.
Nooo! Neeka rolled to her side and vomited. Weakness returned and redoubled.
Well, here it was. Proof. Rathbone was her consort. Only his blood could heal her.
Why, why, why? Didn’t fate understand they were incompatible? He was too serious, while she was a good time waiting to happen. The purveyor of unpredictable fun. She brought brilliance to her team, but he’d washed his hands of her, revealing himself to be a fool. He refused to admit their chemistry was combustible, and they were kind of amazing together. He nursed his very legitimate grudge and she, she... She sniffled. Despite everything, she still craved him.
“So. The Underworld king is your consort,” Azar said.
She glared at his Adam’s apple, hating him. Hating Rathbone. Hating herself. There was a zero-point-zero likelihood Rathbone would part with a single drop on her behalf.
A vibration cut into Neeka’s thoughts. She searched for the source, seeing Taliyah. The General to the rescue!
“I’ve heard a disturbing rumor that had better not be true.” Her friend shoved Azar aside and took his place, crouching beside her. She slitted her eyes. “A lot of people will die cursing my name if someone doesn’t tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know what happened,” Azar said, as calm as could be.
“Well, give her your blood.” The General removed the pinner amid the Astra’s protests.
Neeka’s wings buzzed with relief before going limp.
“I did give her my blood,” the Astra said. “She vomited.”
Taliyah absorbed the information. “I was right. Rathbone is your consort. And he isn’t here to aid you?”
Dang it! Neeka’s tears resurged. The Red King might be the first consort in history not to want his harpy. But fine. Whatever. So he didn’t want her. So what? She didn’t want him, either. Not anymore.