Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 231436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1157(@200wpm)___ 926(@250wpm)___ 771(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1157(@200wpm)___ 926(@250wpm)___ 771(@300wpm)
Later in Padonia, she welcomes the group’s arrival with Sven.
Over dinner, when she and Hisa are talking quietly, and Hisa mentions knowing why Isbeth wants Malec, she surmises that it’s because the Blood Queen thinks he will give her Atlantia.
Despite being a general, Lizeth looks forward to nothing more than an end to the war once and for all.
DIARY ENTRY ~ LABYRINTHINE ESCAPADES
Dearest Diary,
This evening’s rendezvous deserves an entry. I knew the minute I walked away, sated and smiling, that I wanted to capture the event in glorious detail.
The air felt charged tonight during my time out, though whether from an encroaching storm or my excitement, I knew not. Regardless, it kissed me as it passed, billowing my gown and caressing my bared skin, making goose bumps rise deliciously. I can feel them in this moment as I write, a frisson of anticipation skittering down my spine.
I can almost taste the whiskey I sipped as I walked, the scents of jasmine and night-blooming roses surrounding me like a fine perfume, reminding me of the buxom blonde I dallied with some moons prior. She’d smelled of forbidden nights and wicked fantasies—something we’d made a reality. Mmm. I’m shivering now just remembering it.
But back to tonight’s adventure…
As I walked to join my paramour for our scandalous tryst, an agreement made on the dance floor of a Lord and Lady’s pre-Rite ball, the maze rose on either side of me, its lush, leafy walls silvery-green in the moonlight. I reached out and touched the shrubs, the scrape of the sheared branches and leaves on my palm and fingertips reminding me of whiskers on delicate flesh.
Making my way to the center of the labyrinth, I recall thinking of what awaited me there. Not a mystical beast of lore, but a virile male of exquisite masculine beauty—though if I’m being honest (and I am always honest with myself) I’d hoped he would devour me in much more pleasurable ways.
Even now, here in my chambers, my face stretches as I remember the thought—and the ways in which those hopes were fulfilled.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
I made my way through the twisting and turning hedgerows until I reached the center of the maze, finishing my last sip of liquor as I cleared the leafy wall, the delicate burn of the spirits like a warm hug. It lit me from within, but not as much as the scene spread out before me.
The gracious hosts of this evening’s activities—well, the ones inside the manor, anyway—had bedecked their labyrinthian garden with an ornate wrought iron table and chairs and tall sconce torches with flickering firelight.
The circular clearing was filled with flowering trees that I knew would be a vibrant fuchsia in the daylight but were the color of mulled wine in the incandescent glow of the moon.
But even that wasn’t what caught my attention. No, what had me stopped in my tracks, my gaze riveted, was the man sprawled on a cushioned chaise lounge, his taut, toned skin on display, nothing but the gossamer tail of one of the curtains affixed to the arch under which he sat covering his manhood.
His features were as I remembered yet made almost more ethereal by the moonlight. Chiseled cheeks and square jaw, a scar running along his cheekbone to his right temple. The healed wound only heightened his attractiveness and lent credence to his strength. He had an intelligence about him that you couldn’t escape, even from one look into his gorgeous green eyes, slightly hooded and highlighted by the slash of dark brows. His tawny hair was just above shoulder-length and wavy, giving him a roguish air and blatant sex appeal that had first drawn me to him across the ballroom.
I continued taking him in, my wandering gaze traveling leisurely from head to toe. Even from the distance, I could see that he was primed and ready for me, eagerly awaiting my arrival.
I clearly remember now the thrill that ran through me, the sense of power and pride. Just the anticipation of meeting me here had done these things to a man who had seemed so very much in control earlier in the eve. I also remember thinking—and hoping—that he’d exert some of that control over me.
He did not disappoint.
I walked toward him, putting an extra sway in my step, and running my tongue over the rim of the crystal glass I held, holding his gaze the entire way.
I set the tumbler on the table as I passed, watching, attention rapt, as General Ximien palmed himself through the gauzy curtain, the muscles in his bent leg bunching, the moonlight glinting off sweat already dotting his tempting skin the captivating color of amber.
When I reached him, I started disrobing, slowly, pieces and accoutrements of my festival attire falling to the dewy grass beneath my slippered feet, my gaze never leaving his.