Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
“Who taught you to be so compassionate and kind, Shylah? Did you have a mother figure? Someone who looked out for you when you were a baby?”
“We had a series of nurses.” Her earliest memories didn’t have anyone who resembled a mother. “But when I was around three or four, I realized that everyone else came and went but Bellisia and Zara. Even the other girls were moved around. When we were seven, this new house mother came in. Whitney always called them house mothers.”
Her fingers massaged the worst spots right at his temple where his head throbbed to the beat of his heart. Each press against his skull drove the demons away. He couldn’t explain that to her, but he didn’t want her to stop—and she didn’t.
“Keep going, my sweet little peony,” Draden murmured. “I love the way you smell.”
He sounded drowsy, and her heart turned over. She didn’t even correct him referring to that hated flower name, which, strangely, she was beginning to like. She was more than susceptible to him; she was already falling fast, and she didn’t even care. Not when they both were going to die in a few days. Falling for Draden seemed the only sane thing to do.
“Her name was Helena and she was everything we could have wanted in a mother. She showed us what our lives could have been. She was about forty-five, and I think she must have always wanted children because she treated us as her own.” She had to smile, remembering those bright days. “Helena believed in laughter and she taught that to us. How laughter could change every situation into something good. She did too. We loved her, and we learned what love was.”
His fingers stroked caresses over the back of her hand. “I feel that in you. Your skin is like the petals of that flower I love so much. Soft. Beautiful. Perfect.”
He was drifting. She could tell, and her heart reacted, thundering in response to his touch and his unguarded compliments.
“Go to sleep, Draden, we’ll figure it all out tomorrow.”
7
Shylah Cosmos was an unexpected gift. Draden moved like a ghost in the forest, so silently, insects rarely were disturbed. He felt his way, even moving fast. Having someone with him he suddenly cared about could have been his worst nightmare, but Shylah was as much a ghost as he was. He couldn’t find fault with her at all. She had the same feeling for placing her feet carefully, no matter what kind of pace he set.
She was at home in the trees. She was a gazelle on the forest floor. Her instincts were dead-on. Draden had feared she would slow him down or he would worry so much about her that his attention would be divided, but he found himself treating her the way he did his fellow GhostWalkers. He gave her his highest respect by not questioning where she was at any given moment. He moved with his normal speed and never once checked to see if she could keep up, after their initial start.
Shylah seemed to be in perfect sync with him, as if they had been hunting the enemy for years together. That strengthened his belief that the woman had been paired with him. Whitney had the idea that a pair of soldiers, male and female, could be sent out together and they would be just as successful as a unit of soldiers if they had the right weapons. By that, he meant if they were the right weapons.
They had both fallen asleep the previous night, his head in Shylah’s lap, her hands in his hair. It should have been uncomfortable for him. He’d never spent a night with anyone since he was twelve and learned how vulnerable he could be in sleep. Even with his fellow GhostWalkers, he set himself a little apart and spread a few traps around him. He always slept with weapons at his fingertips, and he woke several times to check his surroundings. With Shylah, he just slept.
She was the most relaxing person he’d ever been around. When he did stir, it was because she moved, sliding down onto the mattress with him. He’d simply rolled onto his side, his body around hers, his arm curling around her waist. They both slept.
Once in his arms, Shylah made no noise and didn’t move. He woke first and looked down at her face, her flawless skin with the dusting of freckles across her nose and under her eyes. The feathery fan of lashes. She was on her side as well, and her hand was tucked under the pillow. He lifted the edge with two fingers to see her fingers curled around the hilt of a knife. Her gun was within reach of her other hand. They’d slept all of the night and most of the day away.