Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Irritation joined the guilt as he recalled his earlier conversation with the oracle. She’d asked if he trusted his wife.
For the first time in forever, he’d remembered rumors he’d heard when he’d moved into the palace after Lore’s death. Whispers about her dealings with Styx. How she hadn’t been his prisoner, but his puppeteer. It was one of the reasons he’d killed the servants.
Not once in their relationship had Rathbone noted any evidence to support the outrageous claim. There was no one sweeter or gentler than his Lore. She was tenderness and light. Necessary ingredients for his life. She wasn’t some bold warrior woman who sometimes forgot his name and rarely made sense. Who teased and tempted him with her wit at every opportunity, making him laugh and growl in equal measure.
As Neeka snuggled deeper into his hollows, getting comfortable, he measured his breaths. When she released a throaty moan, he decided she was warm enough. Time to search for a way off this planet. But as he shifted, intending to rise, she opened her eyes and jerked upright, dislodging his arms.
Their gazes met. Anticipation unfurled, a spring ready to pounce. She had better remember him. Or else. “Hello, Neeka.”
* * *
Neeka tried to make sense of her current reality. “You are Rathbone, King of Agonies.”
“I am,” he replied without an emotional inflection.
“I’m draped over you, almost naked.” And a lot too cozy for her peace of mind. “Since I haven’t said yes to a guy in eight centuries, Imma need to hear your explanation for this situation in the next five seconds, so I can decide how to kill you.”
Firelight danced over his face as he double blinked. “Eight centuries? Without sex?”
That was his takeaway? “Four. Three.” Think, think. What had happened? “Two. One and a half.”
He narrowed black diamond eyes. “You told me this might happen. I didn’t wish to believe you, but here we are.” Inhale. Exhale. He ran his tongue over straight white teeth. “I’m wrong, and you’re right. That is your safe phrase.”
Dang. That did sound like her. But there was only one reason she’d abandon her no nooky rule and seek to protect a male from her wrath...
Had she found her consort at last?
Vulnerability softened her tension. “Well, then.” She cleared her throat and, though stiff, settled atop him. “This is your second chance to make an awe-inspiring first impression. Don’t blow it.” Please. “Are we dating?”
“We are... partners,” he said.
What did that mean? He was her type. Not traditionally handsome, but better. Arresting. Intense. Rough. And don’t even get her started on the massive body all but incinerating her.
The fact that he was naked and growing bigger by the second left her breathless.
“You obviously—very obviously—want me.” Her heart leaped. And he’s still growing. My, my, my. Hat tip to his DNA. Wait. She dug her claws into his chest, suddenly uncertain despite the mounting evidence. “You want me, no one else?”
His expression softened, as if he’d just realized something embarrassing about her, and oh, she longed to bury her face in the hollow of his neck. To hide. To cuddle closer.
“I do want you,” he confessed.
Well, then. She relaxed over him, getting more comfortable. “Do you want me for longer than a night?”
A slight vibration petted her from the inside. Had he groaned? “Much longer.”
Ooh. Maybe things were too new to label. “Tell me more about us. My impression of you is improving.”
He didn’t take the bait. But he did reach up and smooth a lock of hair behind her ear. “Do you recall how you ended up with your moniker?”
The action, coupled with the question, coming on the heels of his amazing confession, so startled her, she blurted the truth. “My mother. It was her way of punishing me for failing to stop her foe from stabbing me in the ears during an invasion. Well, one of the ways.” Her head ached as she pushed back the memories. “I was five.”
The corners of his mouth turned down. “She blamed you for not overcoming a grown warrior’s attack?” He waited for her nod of confirmation to add, “You were a child.”
“But also a harpy with two years of training at her side.” Neeka would give anything to hear his voice. Was it as deep and husky as she suspected? “She lost her consort that day.” Not Neeka’s father, who still lived. He’d stopped wanting anything to do with her, too. Push, push, push. “My weakness contributed to her sudden lack of a family. Someone had to pay.”
“Yes. The soldiers. You were a child,” Rathbone repeated, his dark eyes glittering with menace. He traced his fingertips along the ridges of her spine, gentle, so gentle. When his fingertips brushed the edge of her wings, she moaned with delight.
“Remember the part about me being a harpy? That matters. I’m also the daughter of a harpy-Phoenix and a master oracle. Greatness is built in my DNA. I should’ve done better.”