Total pages in book: 200
Estimated words: 189930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 950(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 950(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
“Do you really think I believe any of this? That the Atlantians are innocent, and everything I’ve been taught is a lie?”
“Not particularly, but it was worth a shot. We are not innocent of all crimes—”
“Like murder and kidnapping?” I threw at him.
“That among other things. You don’t want to believe what I’m saying. Not because it sounds too foolish to believe, but because there are things you’re now questioning. Because it means your precious brother is feeding on innocents—”
“No.”
“And turning them into Craven.”
“Shut up,” I growled, shooting to my feet. The sharp, sudden movement barely causing me any pain.
Rising in one fluid movement, he quickly towered over me. “You don’t want to accept what I’m saying, even as logical as it sounds because it means your brother is one of them, and the Queen who cared for you has slaughtered thousands—”
I didn’t stop to think about what I did next. I was just so furious and afraid because he was right, what he’d said had prompted questions. Like how none of the Ascended were seen during the day, or how no one but they entered the Temples. But, worse yet, it raised the question of why Hawke would make all of this up. What would be the point of concocting this elaborate lie when he had to know how hard it would be to convince me?
No, I didn’t think about any of that.
I just acted.
The chain skidded across the floor as I swung on him, my hand curled into a fist.
Hawke’s hand snapped up, catching mine before it connected with his jaw. Gods, he moved impossibly fast, twisting my arm as he spun me around. He yanked me back against the hard wall of his chest, trapping my arm between us as he grabbed my other hand. A shriek of frustration ripped from my throat as I went to lift my leg—
“Don’t.” His voice was a soft warning in my ear, one that sent a shiver down my spine.
I didn’t listen.
He grunted when the heel of my foot connected with the front of his leg. Jerking my leg up, I kicked back.
Suddenly, I found myself pressed against the wall with Hawke at my back. I struggled, but it was no use. There wasn’t an inch of space between him or the cold, damp wall.
“I said, don’t.” His warm breath drifted over my temple. “I mean it, Princess. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You don’t? You already hur—” I cut myself off.
“What?” He moved my arm so it was no longer caught between us. He didn’t let go, though. Instead, he pressed my hand into the wall, just as he did with the other one.
Clamping my mouth shut, I refused to tell him that he’d already hurt me. Admitting that meant there was something to hurt, to be exploited, and he already had enough to use against me.
“You know you can’t seriously hurt me,” he said, resting his cheek against mine.
I tensed. “Then why am I chained?”
“Because getting kicked, punched, or clawed still doesn’t feel good,” he returned. “And while the others have been ordered to not touch you, it doesn’t mean they’ll be as tolerant as I am.”
“Tolerant?” I tried to push off the wall but got nowhere. “You call this tolerant?”
“Considering that I just spent time cleaning out and covering your wound, I would say so. And a thank you would be nice.”
“I didn’t ask you to help me,” I seethed.
“No. Because you’re either too proud or too foolish to do so. You would’ve allowed yourself to rot instead of asking for help,” he said. “So, I’m not going to get a thank you, am I?”
Thrusting my head back was my answer. He anticipated it, though, and I didn’t manage to hit him. He forced my cheek to the wall. I wriggled, trying to break his hold.
“You are exceptionally skilled at being disobedient,” he growled. “Only second to your talent of driving me crazy.”
“You forgot one last skill.”
“I did?”
“Yes,” I gritted out. “I’m skilled at killing Craven. I imagine killing Atlantians is no different.”
Hawke chuckled deeply, and I felt the sound all along my back. “We’re not consumed by hunger, so we’re not as easily distracted as a Craven.”
“You can still be killed.”
“Is that a threat?”
“You take it however you want.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I know you’ve been through a lot. I know that what I’ve told you is a lot, but it is all the truth. Every part, Poppy.”
“Stop calling me that!” I squirmed.
“And you should stop doing that,” he said, his voice rougher, deeper. “Then again. Please continue. It’s the perfect kind of torture.”
For a moment, I didn’t understand what he meant, but then I felt him against my lower back, and my breath caught as a wave of awareness stole through me. “You’re sick.”