Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 91631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
The lights go out overhead.
Bedtime. Like a child. Clenching my jaw, I keep pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, in front of the glass. There's nothing to look at, but I don't want to go to bed just yet. Not until Mina apologizes. Not until—
A small, watery sniff breaks the silence.
My hackles go up. I turn toward Mina, where the covers are still pulled over her head, as if she can somehow create privacy for herself. I prick my ears, homing in on her sounds. She draws in a shaky breath and sniffs again, the sound congested.
She is…crying? Because of me? This fearless female, who gave me a defiant look of pleasure as she stroked my cock…is crying because we argued?
Intrigued, I move toward the bed. Mina doesn't move under the covers, but I can smell the delicate scent of her tears. My intrigue changes to guilt. I don't like that she's sad. I tug on a corner of the blanket, and she immediately tugs it back out of my hand. I bite back a snort of sudden amusement and tug on the blanket again. This time, she doesn't jerk it back and I get under the covers with her. She keeps the blankets pulled over her head so I do the same.
Then we are both under the blanket, and Mina will not look at me. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her posture that of anger, but tears roll down her face. Her breath perfumes the air underneath the blanket and I decide I like this cocoon she has made, because it smells like her.
"You are mad at me," I venture.
"I'm mad at the situation." She swipes an angry hand over her cheeks.
"You think I am weak and will get my throat ripped out—"
Her nostrils flare and she glares at me. "I'm scared that I'll be all 'yes, he's amazing' and then I'll be the reason you die. That's why I'm fucking upset, you idiot. I know you can handle yourself. You're scary as shit in the training pit. You kick everyone's asses. But I don't know anything about fighting, and I care about you, and that's why I'm upset!"
I curl a finger, reaching out with my knuckle to brush away the tears on her cheek. I am ever-so-mindful of my claws. I want to shear them off so I can touch her properly, but I will need them for the arena, so I must not. She lets me wipe away her tears, her lower lip trembling. "I don't like your sadness," I say finally. "It makes me sad."
"I just feel so…helpless." She looks over at me. "You're the first friend I've had here. I don't want to be responsible for your death."
"You won't be. I would never blame you."
"I'd blame myself."
"If I tell you not to, will that help?"
Her little huff is both frustration and amusement. "You're ridiculous." But she holds her arms out, inviting me to lean against her. I move in automatically, resting my head against her breasts. Carefully, I curl my hands around her smaller body, holding her tightly as she wraps her arms around me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pick a fight."
"I did not mean for you to get upset over me. I'm a gladiator, Mina. It's all I can remember. There's nothing in my head but training and arena rules." And you, with your hands on my body, I want to say, but I hold that back.
Mina's fingers dig into my mane and I close my eyes, giving myself over to the pleasure of it. She always knows just how to touch me to make me feel good. "I wish I could do something to help," she says softly. "I'd do anything for you."
I think of her soft hand under the soapy towel, and how she worked my cock, that pleased look on her face. "I wish you had a penis," I tell her. I would love to give her the same pleasure she gave me.
"What?" Mina goes still, her hand pausing in my mane just as her nails begin to scratch at my scalp. "I don't think I heard you correctly."
"I said, I wish you had a penis," I say again. "Then I would know how to pleasure you. I don't have anything in my memories about pleasuring females. I wish I did, because I think about the way you touched me, and it makes me want to do the same for you. To make you feel good, like you made me feel good."
"Oh," she breathes. Her hands tremble and she strokes my mane again. That musky, enticing scent rolls through the air under the blanket, and my senses prick. "That's oddly sweet of you, Crulden. I'm a woman—born female and identify as female, too. I have a vagina and uh…I forget the technical terms for all of it, really. A pussy."