Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
"You only have part of it?" I echo, confused. What does that mean?
I am Mhal. That is all I remember.
"Mhal. Hi." I smile into the dream sunlight. "That's kind of an ominous name for such a nice guy."
You think I am nice? He's amused.
"You think you're not?"
Nice is not a word that is usually used to describe me.
"What is?"
Fearsome. Dangerous. Lethal. A monster.
I'm not worried about labels like that. "My dad was a nomad. They're kicked out of settlements because they don't follow the rules. He killed people, but always with good reason. He hurt men that tried to hurt me. So I'm not afraid of a guy that's called a monster. Some people thought my dad was one, too. It's all in how you treat those around you."
I would kill to keep you safe.
Hearing that doesn't scare me. I smile instead. "I suspect you would. You seem like the protective sort. After all, you're protecting my dreams."
I do not like your distress, Mhal admits. It wakes me from my slumber. It bothers me so much that it calls me toward you.
I'm chagrined to hear that. "I woke you up? I'm sorry."
No apologies are needed. I wanted to awaken.
"Where are you? Who are you? How can we talk in my dreams anyhow?" I sit up higher on my bed. "Are you psychic? Is that how we can talk? And why did you pick me?"
Pick you?
"I'm sure a lot of people have bad dreams around here." I wave a hand, indicating the fort. "Why are you slipping into mine?"
Obviously because you are my mate. His tone is imperious.
His answer astonishes me. "Excuse me? Your what?"
I told you already. You belong to me.
His answer doesn't frighten me. It's my dream, after all. "Well if I'm your mate, where are you?" I cross my arms over my chest. "Don't I at least get to look at you? And do you want to look at me?"
I do not need to look at you to know you are mine.
That strikes me as bizarre. There's something obvious I'm missing, but I can't seem to put my finger on it. "Don't you want to know what I look like? Isn't that important in a mate?"
I like your smell. It calls me. My head fills with warmth. I am certain the rest of you is pleasant, too.
I'm oddly hurt by this revelation. I've never been a great beauty, but I thought for sure that if I fell in love, the person I loved would want to at least look at my face. It sounds like Mhal—whoever he is—doesn't want to look at me. All he wants is my smell. And anyone can smell good.
I assure you, they cannot. Again, his tone is arch and amused at the same time. Your people stink.
My people? "Fort Dallas people?" I fight the temptation to lift an arm and smell it. "Everyone stinks in the After. It's because we're penned up thanks to the dragons."
Dragons? he asks, suddenly interested. What do you know of dragons?
His mind is hot and heavy in mine, and I could swear I feel his presence standing right beside me, even though I'm alone in my bed. I'm suddenly very aware of how little I'm wearing…not that it matters, because he doesn't like my face.
I did not say that. You are angry at my thoughts.
"You told me you'd rather sniff me than look at me. Of course I'm a little hurt."
You distract me. Do not change the topic. What do you know of dragons? His mental voice is a sultry caress.
As if I'm the one being distracting? Irritated—or maybe determined to make him realize what he's missing out on—I run my hands down my body, sliding them between my thighs. "Why are we talking about dragons if I'm your mate?"
Hot lust curls through my mind, and I know that somehow, Mhal can feel the exact moment when I touch myself. Are you trying to entice me into joining you?
"I don't know. Is it working?"
Close your eyes.
I do, and immediately it feels as if a solid, heavy form settles in the bed next to me. I gasp as a hand—scorchingly hot—covers mine and laces with my fingers. Our joined hands are between my thighs, and he begins to rub, purring in my ear. Jenny.
"Mhal," I breathe. "Oh, Mhal."
Jenny.
Jenny.
A rough hand startles me awake. "Jenny. Wake up."
I gasp, blinking at the face above mine. It's Manda, her expression tight. Oh god. An embarrassing thought occurs to me. Was I masturbating in my sleep? Did they hear me calling out for my imaginary boyfriend as I touched myself between my legs? Horrified at the thought, I glance over at the bunks of the other girls, but they look just as dazed and sleepy as me.
"Sorry," I mumble. "Was I snoring?"
"No, Azar's calling everyone." Manda wraps her blanket tight around her shoulders, her expression pinched. "Something's wrong. I think we're in trouble."