Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Another tiny twitch of the left eye takes place.
The briefest flicker of an emotion flashed.
Something is there.
I just need to fucking get to it.
Preferably without making do on the aforementioned threat.
“Name!”
“921782,” she rattles off, dead eyed gaze returning.
“Mission?”
“Ptectro pjectro Mnlightoo.”
“What’s Project Moonlight?” Cameron inquires, swiftly shifting my stare away from the prisoner to her.
“You…,” bewilderment traipses itself down my spine, “you actually understood that?”
“Uh…yeah? Why wouldn’t I? I speak English.”
“But she didn’t,” Ana pipes in before I can.
Cameron does her best to keep her composure. “But she spoke.”
I swallow my own apprehension. “She did.”
“And I understood it.”
“You did.”
“And you keep shouting at me-”
“An exaggeration.”
“-that she’s an orc.”
Knowing where the conversation is headed has me tightening my crossed arms in anticipation of the conclusion that can’t truly be the conclusion.
“And if she’s a so-called orc—under the inference that they are indeed somehow real—and she speaks Olatinrc—which I am under the impression is the native tongue of orcs—and I understand Olatinrc—like it’s my own native tongue—then that would make me…” Cameron’s expression slowly seeps into panic. “Then that means I would have to be…” Her head angles to one side while searching for any solution to the math problem that isn’t the obvious one. “Which means I could possibly be a…”
Half-orc.
Thank you, dragonhole. Pretty sure she knows the answer. She just can’t fathom it quite yet.
Wrong.
Fuck, fine. Yes. I was wrong.
Again.
You want me to say that shit again?
Yes.
Why?!
Amusement.
I am not here to fucking entertain you!
Wrong.
The internal growl he’s given is cut off by my Fated Mate’s audible labored breathing. “No…” Frantic headshakes begin. “This is all just…some…,” more whipping around of her head, “strange…hallucination caused by being in need of another dose of my medication.”
My brow scrunches together in concern. “What medication, Pint-Size?”
She forgoes combatting the nickname to retrieve a small bottle from her pocket and offer it up to me for inspecting. “They’re just my antipsychotic pills.” Once they’re in my possession, she innocently shrugs. “I’ve been on ‘em for decades, basically since she disappeared and ran away probably to start a new family or sell her body for steroids or whatever. What most people would just call an overactive imagination of a child, a team of doctors declared psychotic. Those pills merely help prevent things like these delusional episodes and assist in keeping the voice in my head relatively silent.”
It’s impossible to ignore the deeper, inner pang.
Is that her warrior side she’s suppressing?
Is it trapped inside of her screaming for help?
Screaming for freedom?
Screaming for…something more than the Sleeper existence she believes to be hers?
Is that why I can’t smell her essence like I can all other creatures?
Rather than reply, I redirect my focus to Dae and display the bottle for her to see. “Can you look into these?”
Excitement as well as eagerness have her nodding. “Definitely.”
I toss the bottle, yet it’s my brother who catches it on a grunted, “Don’t throw shit at my pregnant Fated Mate.”
“Relax, he threw a pill container not a liquor bottle,” Ana swiftly scolds.
“Have you been drinking?!” A.D. panics, thoughts wandering off the wrong direction. “For Dragons Sake, should we be worried about how fucked up that’s gonna make our offspring?”
“Ugh,” his mate grumbles with an eyeroll. “You’re gonna be one of those, aren’t you? Every little thing is gonna make you fucking paranoid.”
“You’re not supposed to drink when you’re pregnant!”
“I don’t think that I did!”
“Fred, Wilma,” Dae cautiously interrupts on a half-cocked grin, “we can discuss all your pregnancy concerns at home after I look into these,” she shakes the bottle around, “and after I examine her.” The flick of a finger towards the prisoner captures everyone’s confusion. “Something’s not quite right about this situation.”
“You mean other than the wrongful detaining of my mother?”
“Rightful,” I mumble my correction.
“I mean certain words cause a tick,” my youngest brother’s other half slowly begins to explain, “while the rest of her body remains completely unmoved. It appears to be a subconscious response, yes, but not in your usual fashion. It’s as though something is firing behind the wall we’re seeing.” Her expression deepens with worry. “Honestly, it reminds me of what we saw with Krystie, but worse.”
“How can anything be worse than that shit?!” A.D. viciously bites.
“Krystie was non-responsive. Dai-”
“Thank you for using her name,” Cameron quietly comments.
“-could be programed to be this combative, which would mean trying to harm you wasn’t her fault.”
“Brainwashed?” I ask despite how ridiculous the word sounds leaving my lips.
“Possibly,” she retorts at the same time. “I need a closer examination.”
“Fuck. No.” Z chomps, frame moving to be between her and the glass. “You’re not getting anywhere near that fucking-”
“Word. Choice. Zilveren.” The authoritative tone as much as the content catches me off guard. “That is still my Fated Mate’s mother regardless of your fucking fears.”
“Fated Mate?!?” Cameron croaks beside me.
Yes.
Not the time for that talk.