Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 63709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
No, not lights. Flowers.
The five moons are out, and they’re bright, but there’s no way they’re giving off enough light to be making those flowers glow in the dark like that. Each bloom glows as if it has a miniature lightbulb inside it.
The king lets me slide out of his arms. I hurry over to the nearest blossom, stroking its soft petals. “These look like moonflowers.”
“They are. That’s how they got the name.”
“But…” I look up at the palace, where more vines cover the columns. Sure enough, there are dots of light glowing within the profusion of thorns. I must have missed them when I was trying to escape—or chalked them up to hidden lights. “I’ve never noticed them glowing before.”
“They don’t glow until a few days after blooming.” Bestian settles his huge bulk onto the bench. “You can pick one, if you like.”
“No.” I don’t want to destroy a single one. “But… what would happen if I did? Would it stop glowing?”
“Not for a long time. My father planted this garden for my mother. We used to have bowls full of moonflowers in the ballroom.”
There’s a wistful tone in his deep, gravelly voice. His parents died, right? That’s what Leelah said in the marketplace. “The old king and queen?”
“Yes. This was their autumn home.”
“Oh, autumn home?” I roll my eyes. “Did you have one for every season?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
He leans forward. I can’t see his face but his eyes are gleaming. “Is that why you wish to leave? You resent my great wealth?”
“I resent that you live in luxury while your people suffer.”
“My people are well cared for.” He waves a hand. “My advisors see to their needs.”
“Your people were falling ill and dying.” I turn away from the flowers, my fists clenched at my sides. The king is so much bigger than I am, but when I think of Ma at death’s door, I want to slap him. “That’s the whole reason I came up here. I never would’ve come here otherwise.”
“And I am very glad you did.” His purr has deepened into a growl.
I grit my teeth, fighting the wave of arousal that surges in me. Everything in me aches to cross the distance between us, to go to him. Come on, body, I’m trying to have a conversation about wealth inequality.
“I sent a potion that will stop the spread of the curse,” he continues.
“Not quite universal healthcare, but okay.”
“You are getting upset, Omega.”
“Stop calling me that.” I turn away from him, focusing on the flowers once more. I inhale deeply, but get a huge whiff of the king’s scent along with the floral perfume. My shoulders relax. “I need to get back to Ma,” I whisper, mostly to remind myself. Fuck, why is it so hard to focus on anything but Bestian?
“Rose.” He extends a giant hand tipped with black claws. “Come to me. I promised you a truce. Let us talk as equals.”
It’s a trap! But until I can escape, I might as well find a way to reason with my captor. “Stop growling,” I say, and the sound cuts off like he flicked a switch.
I take a small step closer to him.
“Look, Your Majesty—”
“Bestian,” he corrects me.
“Bestian.” My body sighs at the rightness of his name on my lips. “I don’t trust you.”
“I know, little one. It pains me. Come to me, and let us come to an accord.”
I’m already taking more steps towards him. I tell myself it’s because I want answers, but it’s really because I want to be close to him. I want to wrap myself up in his scent.
As soon as I’m close enough, he catches my arm and tugs me down to him. Instead of making room on the bench, he positions me on his broad lap, facing outwards.
“Good girl,” he croons in my ear, the same way he does in bed. A rush of heat floods my face. Another wave of his scent rolls over me—rich pine needles, freshly brewing coffee, dark chocolate, the dry cedar—and I bite my lip as a dart of desire hits my clit. No. Bad Rose. Focus.
“I want to face you.” I wriggle, and his arm tightens around my middle. “I don’t know what you look like.”
“And you never will. I am not… fit to look upon.”
Why not? He sounds sensitive about the subject, so I say, “You could let me be the judge of that.”
“Perhaps.” He sounds amused.
This is stupid. He wants to speak to me as an equal, but it’s clear he doesn’t think I am one. I get the sense it has nothing to do with my social or alien status. It’s that Alpha/Omega bullshit. “What do you want from me?”
“I’ve told you from the first. You are my Omega. My mate. We were born to be bonded. Two bodies, one soul.”