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)
Nyktos’s eyes lifted to mine. “What has one of my guards said?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“That’s not an answer.” My heart thumped heavily.
“It’s because I haven’t sacrificed anything,” he said, and I wasn’t sure I believed him. “Lift your sweater.”
I blinked, wondering if the whiskey had gotten to me that quickly. “Excuse me?”
“You were wounded. I want to see how bad it is.”
“It’s not—”
“Lift your sweater and allow me to check your injury, Sera.” He took a deep breath. “Please.”
I hesitated, only because he’d asked this time. And only because he’d said please, and that was still a weakness of mine.
Nyktos briefly closed his eyes. “I don’t think you’re wounded enough that you’ll need blood, so you don’t have to worry about me taking advantage of you.”
The fact that I felt even the tiniest bit of disappointment at hearing that told me I needed a hefty dose of whatever Nyktos had just insinuated I lacked. Common sense.
Thick lashes lifted. Silver eyes lit softly from behind pierced mine. Knowing my luck, this was probably one of those moments where he was either intentionally or unintentionally reading my emotions. He would’ve felt the disappointment, and I didn’t even want to know what he thought—if he saw me as someone so desperate for affection that I would seek it from someone who didn’t even want friendship from me.
And that would be accurate on some level. My entire life lacked not only touch but also affection. I did crave it, but I wasn’t desperate enough to take whatever meager scraps were offered to me by anyone.
I just wanted his affection because I thought I’d had a taste of it before he learned the truth. He’d wanted me then, to the point of distraction, but I thought he had also been fond of me. That he cared. Now, there was only a physical desire, one that he’d likely deny to his very last breath.
Then what he said struck me. “Wait. Do you think you took advantage of me after you gave me your blood?”
“I knew what my blood would do to you. I should’ve been able to restrain myself or left you alone the moment you started feeling the effects.”
I stared at him. “My reaction had very little to do with your blood.”
“Sera.”
“And everything to do with my attraction to you. I told you that then. It hasn’t changed.”
His jaw flexed. “Even so, I should’ve been able to control myself instead of becoming a man with no control over his body.”
I laughed. “You are not only a man.”
“Just because I’m a Primal doesn’t mean my body responds differently.”
“I didn’t realize that Primals—or men in general—had such little control over their cocks,” I snapped, annoyed that he would excuse his reaction, his pleasure, as something he had no control over.
“That’s not what I—never mind.” His eyes flared bright briefly. “Let me see your wound.”
“Whatever.” I grabbed the hem and the slip underneath, lifting them to my ribs. “It’s not bad. See?” I looked down, cringing slightly at the thin gash running along the left side of my waist. “Just a flesh wound.”
“There’s no such thing as a flesh wound.”
I started to lower my sweater, but Nyktos palmed my hips. The contact startled me enough that I didn’t protest as he lifted me onto the desk. His hands lingered there. The reminder of his strength was always a surprise. It made me feel incredibly dainty, and I was not even in the same realm as dainty. No part of me wasn’t, as Tavius had once said, plump.
Fucking gross bastard.
Gods, I almost wished he was still alive so I could shove something harder than a whip down his throat.
Nyktos’s eyes lifted to mine. “You’re projecting again.”
“Sorry,” I muttered as he reached for the cloth. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know. I’m doing it because I want to.”
He’d said that before. And my reckless heart leapt, just like then. He pressed his fingers to the skin beneath the wound, the touch gentle and yet another shock. I jolted.
“Sorry.” He withdrew his hand. “I didn’t mean to cause pain.”
“You didn’t. It’s just…I wish your touch was warm again,” I said, which wasn’t entirely untrue. “Did it warm because you fed?” I asked, knowing that Nyktos rarely fed. From what I could gather, Primals didn’t need to feed often unless they were wounded and weakened. And I had weakened him, just a little, when I hit him with that blast of eather.
He shook his head. “My skin has never warmed to the touch after feeding. It has always been cold.”
“Then why…?” I figured it out. “The embers?”
“I am Death,” he reminded me. “And you carry the embers of life in you. Your blood is what warmed my skin.”
“Will my blood have any other effects on you?”
There was a quick upward curl of his lips. “That is yet to be seen.”