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)
14
A male determined, Rathbone knocked on Neeka’s bedroom door. He’d come to her with a foolproof plan lacking only a few minor details. Smooth things over with extravagant gifts stop getting hard at the mere sight of her, and find the remaining bones. It was the only honorable thing to do.
Honor wasn’t something he normally aspired to achieve, but he was a desperate male willing to do desperate things to shed this wretched guilt. Plus, he owed her much. Regardless of his actions inside that cave, she continued to prove herself his staunchest ally.
Last night, when he’d perceived the harpy General’s arrival, he’d flashed to the oracle, leaving Lore behind midsentence. Seeing Neeka up and well had flooded him with intense relief. When she’d chosen him over her best friend and allies, well, that relief had transformed into hope. She’d done it for payment, yes, but also, possibly, affection?
Just because Lore returned didn’t mean Neeka’s service to Rathbone had to end. He planned to unleash his wrath upon the Astra, and he would need an oracle. Yes, the Astra would be destined to lose every battle, making war a breeze. But as humans said, better safe than sorry.
Hinges whined as the door swung open. He braced. How would Neeka react to him?
How would he react to her?
His thoughts blanked. Sunlight turned her into a flawless tapestry of delights. Skin like dark silk. Eyes as pure as amber, outlined with kohl. Lips plumper and redder than cherries. Scent sweeter than usual.
“Yes? May I help you?” she asked. She’d changed clothes. Out of the halter and jeans and into comfy pajamas.
Muscles hardened, and blood burned. “We shall hang out, and you will get to know me better.” Something she’d been eager to do to speed things along. “I have goodies to give you.”
She canted her head, suspicious. “What kind of goodies?”
“The best kind.” He clasped her hand, and teleported her to the dining room, where he’d arranged a feast. “You have earned every morsel. Enjoy.”
“And the jewelry?” she asked, agog.
The reaction pleased him. He waved to encompass the array of dummies where pieces he’d acquired throughout the ages. “All yours. I’ll have them delivered to your room after we—” she already zoomed over and collected several, securing them around her neck faster than a blink “—dine.”
She opened her mouth to respond, then caught sight of the spread. Her eyes rounded. He’d gotten rid of anything sweet or fried and covered the table with vegetable and fruit dishes from the mortal world, Harpina, and his own kingdom. Some vegetables were cooked in butter, others in cream or broth or spices. Some were raw. The fruits were either boiled and mashed, mixed, or sliced and drenched in their own juices. He’d stood in front of the enchanted refrigerator for hours, different vegetarian cookbooks in hand. Not something he’d ever expected to do.
Appearing dazed, she tripped to the table, swiped up a carrot and bit into the end. Her eyes slid shut, rapture softening her features.
His muscles got harder, and his blood burned hotter. Perhaps she’d forgiven him?
“Go ahead,” she said, motioning to him. “Do it.”
“Do what?”
“Apologize.” Peering at him with innocent expectation, she chomped another bite of carrot. “You’re working up to it, but because I’m feeling so magnanimous, I thought I’d save you the agony of indecision and get us to the finish line so we can enjoy our meal. I mean, you did go to all this trouble so... Do it.”
He pursed his lips. Rathbone had a lifetime policy: never admit to wrongdoing. Regret gave the other person power over you, providing directions to a wound they could poke and prod at their convenience. A lesson his mother had taught him well. But.
“I am sorry,” he grated, expecting the words to taste foul. He blinked with surprise. They tasted right. He was sorry. Sorry she’d suffered. Sorry he’d endangered her life. Sorry he’d lost the easy camaraderie that had developed between them. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Much easier to say that time. “I am. I’m sorry. Very, very sorry.”
“All right. I accept. Our beef is officially over.”
He marveled as Neeka busied herself with the food, tasting everything and moaning. She’d truly forgiven him.
After she scooped her favorite dishes onto a plate and sat at the head of the table, he loaded a plate with the same items she’d selected and claimed the seat at her right.
Though he preferred meats and sweets, the first bite of something green wasn’t terrible. “Did the healer aid you to your satisfaction or shall I kill him before I return him to Hades?”
“You borrowed him from the King of the Dead?” she asked.
“Borrowed implies I utilized his services free of charge. I assure you, I’ll pay dearly.”
She winced at him. “That sounds like a you problem. In case it wasn’t clear, expenses never come out of my check.”