Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
But I am so damned tired. And it feels good to be held like this, as if I am valued and cared for. It’s a lie. It has to be a lie.
I’m just not ready for the cold, hard truth.
Thane must feel me relax, because he exhales slowly in something I can almost convince myself is relief. “May I take you to bed?” A soft question. A request, not a command.
I nod against his chest. Apparently I do have some pride left, because I can’t force myself to say the words, but he doesn’t make me.
He gathers me close, and then we’re moving, easing into the cool embrace of the water. I close my eyes. It’s easier this way. To let him guide. To pretend nothing has changed.
It takes less time than I anticipated before we surface again. I shiver as warm air kisses my wet skin. That’s enough to summon my curiosity, and I lift my head to look around.
We’re in a room I’ve never seen before. Part cavern and part constructed room, it’s a peaceful space. The high rock ceiling overhead has lights strung on lines in a number of directions. There are two decently sized pools tucked into one side and a massive bed that looks more like a nest, its sides curved into almost a bowl shape, on the other side. Several tables are filled with the kind of knickknacks a person collects over their life, trinkets and shells mixed in with what look to be expensive jewels.
“This is your room.”
Thane’s arms tighten around me. “It is.” He turns us toward a small door I hadn’t noticed previously. “The bathroom is through there.”
I take the offered olive branch and nod. “I’ll, uh, go clean up.”
It’s not until I’m in the bathroom with a closed door between me and Thane that I start to shake. I brace my hands on the rock countertop and let my head fall forward. “You are being ridiculous. No reason to be a baby.”
The words sound horrifyingly like my mother’s. I shake my head, hard. “Get your game face on, Cat. You just got your mind blown by a fucking kraken-man, and he’s being nice to you. This is a good thing, not cause for alarm.”
Maybe I’ll believe that tomorrow. Right now, I’m feeling too raw. Ironic that all I want is to go back into the bedroom and cuddle with Thane until I feel better. Being around him is the very thing causing me this anguish, but I crave his presence all the same.
I use the toilet, take a few minutes to shower with fresh water, and then there’s no reason to keep hiding in the bathroom. I check the tattoos Azazel gave me back at the beginning of this. Ramanu said something about magical birth control, and I think it’s linked with the demon-bargain tattoo? I can’t remember the specifics. I make a mental note to ask Thane, but the thought dies when I walk back into the room.
Thane was busy tidying up the already tidy space while I was talking myself off the edge. The strings of lights overhead are illuminated, and I’m delighted to discover they’re a range of soft colors, varying from red to yellow to orange to white. They give the space a warm feel that I like a lot.
He turns as I approach, and though he’s obviously trying to keep his expression locked down, he stares at me as if he’s relieved I didn’t crawl out a window and escape. Which is just ridiculous.
For one, there weren’t any windows.
“Hey.” The second I say it, I feel silly. Thane just fucked my brains out. “Hey” is the best I can do?
“I took the liberty of calling for food.”
I try not to wilt at that. I don’t have anything against fish, but there is a lot of fish in every meal I’ve eaten for weeks. A lady can only take so much. Still, it’s nice that he thought to feed me, so I attempt a smile. “Perfect.”
Thane opens his mouth, and it’s everything I can do not to tense. I’m not ready to have whatever conversation lingers in his inky eyes. I don’t know if I’ll ever be. But he doesn’t ask what I’m worrying about or talk about sleeping together again. He just motions to the short table I missed when I was taking the room in. “Do you play?”
It’s a trap, but it’s a good one. Choosing between a difficult conversation and literally anything else, I’ll choose the latter. But I have a weakness for games. There’s an intimacy that comes from playing with others, and when I once said as much, my girlfriend at the time laughed me out of the room, but I stand by it.
Reason enough to say no, but I approach anyway. “I play a lot of games. I don’t know if I play this one.”