Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1185(@200wpm)___ 948(@250wpm)___ 790(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1185(@200wpm)___ 948(@250wpm)___ 790(@300wpm)
Hoping my legs wouldn’t fail me, I did as he asked, facing the small window across from the tub. From behind, he wrapped me in the fluffy, soft towel, arms and all. Before I could thank him, he lifted me from the tub into his arms and against his chest.
Shock hit me in waves, nearly as powerful as the release had been. The show of strength was quickly lost in the act itself. I was stunned into complete silence as he carried me from the bathing chamber and to his bed. He laid me down in the center, my hair no longer soaked but still thoroughly wet. He shucked off the towel at his waist, and I caught a glimpse of the ink along the inside of his lean hips and his semi-hard arousal before he too climbed into the bed beside me.
I lay there in my towel cocoon, covered from my shoulders to my thighs, utterly confused. It wasn’t nighttime when he kept me within arm’s reach. This was different. Yes, we had enjoyed each other. Sure, frustration and maybe a little anger had spawned it, but there had been no pretense. What we had shared wasn’t a consequence of desire-fueled feeding, but I wasn’t naïve enough to think it meant that the past or the future had suddenly changed. Nyktos wanted me then and now, that much was clear.
But what wasn’t clear was this.
Just like it hadn’t been clear when we’d had sex before and he’d wanted me to stay in his bed. Did he think it had to be this way after? Nyktos was a…a quick learner, naturally following what his body liked and paying attention to how I responded to what he did, but he had been a virgin. His experience was limited here. Hell, my experience was limited to getting off and getting going, but I knew enough to know that when he brought me to his bed at night, it was different than this.
“You’re quiet,” Nyktos said. I peeked over at him. He lay on his back, nude as the day he was born, an arm thrust behind his head and the other on his chest as he stared at the ceiling. “You’re never quiet.”
A short laugh left me as my gaze shifted to the ceiling. “I know an entire kingdom that would disagree with that.”
“Really?”
I nodded.
“Why?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that, so it took a couple of moments. “As your Consort, I was not to be known by most.”
There was a beat of silence. “What does that mean?”
“It’s like with the Chosen, but even more. I…I don’t know how to explain it other than to say that I…I didn’t exist.”
“You existed.”
“I didn’t, though,” I told him, not able to blame this bit of honesty on whiskey like I had when I’d spoken about Tavius. Maybe this time, it was the orgasm. “I was shrouded like the Chosen, and that was what most assumed I was, but I was sure people questioned it because I wasn’t at the Temples like the other Chosen. Either way, the same rules applied to me when I was veiled. But even after you didn’t take me, and I no longer wore the veil, it remained the same. The people of Lasania didn’t even know that I was the true heir to the throne. They didn’t know that Princess Seraphena even existed. And the few who did, like the older servants who worked in Wayfair and had to suspect who I was? They never acknowledged it. Or me. I was a ghost.”
Nyktos said nothing, but I felt his gaze on me.
Like before, I didn’t look at him. But I couldn’t deal with the silence that fell between us, which was highly ironic given the topic. I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I’m actually used to being quiet.”
“But not with me.”
“That’s because you usually annoy me,” I stated dryly, and his answering chuckle warmed my skin. There was that strange, pleasant sensation in my chest again, and that was…well, it could be concerning. “And because seducing you required me to actually speak, unless that’s not what you liked. Then I would’ve been silent.” The moment those words left my mouth, I cringed. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”
Several moments passed. “You would’ve become whatever you believed I wanted?”
Closing my eyes, I pictured punching myself in the face. Hard. Repeatedly. I didn’t even know why I’d brought that up when I wanted nothing more than to forget it.
“Sera?”
I swallowed. “I would have.”
He shifted, drawing up a leg. “You talked before you realized I was the Primal of Death. You were never quiet then.”
“Like I told you, you annoyed me,” I said instead of what had immediately popped into my head. That it was because of how I’d felt heard and seen when I was with him. Respected. Counted. Opening my eyes, I finally turned my head to him. There was an ease about him and the lines of his features. Our eyes met. Words swelled in my throat. Ones best not given life. “I should get going. I’m sure you have—”