Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Zohr pulls away from my braiding and turns to look at me, his eyes wide and swirling with black edges. Why do you water like that? Is there something wrong with your face? One big, clawed hand touches my cheek, and there is alarm in his thoughts. Do you hurt?
“Huh? I’m crying.” I sniff again and use the edge of my poor re-stitched T-shirt to wipe my face. “And shut up. It’s not something I’m proud of. Jack hated sissy shit. No time for it, you know?”
But…why? Why do you water?
I blink, surprised. “Your people don’t cry? When they’re sad?”
Is that what this is? He touches my cheek and then stares down at the wet pads of his fingers. I do not like it.
“Well I’m not a big fan of it, either,” I tell him, half laughing, half weeping. ”I don’t like being sad. I can’t fix it, so I focus on what I can fix.” I gaze at him, taking in the waves of thick, rich golden hair that tumble over his big shoulders. “Like that braid I almost had done before you yanked it out of my hands. Now sit down and rest. I don’t want you hurting your back.”
He growls low in his throat, but it’s more grouchiness than anything. When I put my hands on my hips, he gives me an almost sulky look and returns to his seat. His back is stiff, a sure sign that he’s hurting, but he gives no indication otherwise.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
It is as you say. I cannot fix it, so I prefer not to focus on it. He closes his eyes and his expression calms. Come and touch me more and distract me.
A sudden flush moves over me. “You mean your hair, right?”
For now. There’s a playful tone in his thoughts.
“Mmmhmm.” I can’t help but smile, and the last of my tears dry up. “Nice try, chacho, but we’re not doing anything else until you feel better.”
Then I will recover quickly.
19
ZOHR
I wake up later that night and realize that my Emma is gone. She is not at my side.
Fear and panic flare through me, but with one quick sniff, I realize her scent still hangs in the air. Where is she, if she does not sleep with me? I get to my feet, stiff and aching. I have tried to hide from Emma just how much my wounds hurt and how badly my shoulders burn, as if my wings themselves are aching despite not having them in my two-legged form. It is an intense pain, one I fear will not be leaving anytime soon.
But I can endure it, as long as I have my Emma.
I pace through the strange nest that she calls an “apartment,” following her scent. There, in one of the back rooms, she huddles on a strange flat seat, blankets pulled tight around her. Her back is to the wall and next to her, she holds a knife. Always prepared, my mate.
I do not understand why she has abandoned me, though. I study the place where she sleeps, and there looks to be room enough for me to slide my larger body next to hers. I get down next to her and she immediately clenches the knife, jerking awake. I cover her hand with my larger one, stopping her before she can bite at me with it. It is me, Emma.
“Oh. You scared me.” She yawns, and then her brows draw together. “What are you doing up, Zohr? You should be sleeping.”
I will, now that I am next to you again. Why did you leave?
She moves over and shrugs before lying down again. “Didn’t want to disturb you. You’re still wounded.”
You never disturb me, I tell her, and put my arm around her, pulling her closer. You are my mate.
She hesitates for a moment, then relaxes in my arms, drifting back off to sleep. Yeah, but that’s only temporary.
Temporary? I ask, stunned.
But she is already drifting off to sleep once more. There’s a brief thought of us going our separate ways soon, and then she is dreaming.
I do not sleep, though. My back screams with agony and feels hot, but it pains me less than my heart. She is leaving me? She will not stay?
I think about what she has told me. Nothing’s ever permanent in the After. I remember her thoughts, her stories about Jack and how he taught her to be independent, to count on no one. I think of her startled realization of how deeply we were connected in our minds and how it unsettled her.
Did she think that by mating me, she would help me escape and then leave? That it would be nothing more than a momentary connection that could be easily severed?
In her sleep, she turns her back to me, and I realize that it is exactly what she thought. That when she mated to me, she thought she was offering assistance, not her heart.