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)
“A Sleeper reference I do understand.” He playfully winks.
An additional urge to throw another fist rears its ugly head.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.
My anger issues are usually much easier to contain.
I don’t know what it is about him though that just gets my entire system twisting and turning and tearing at itself to simultaneously punch him in the dick and stroke it.
Hfal.
Fuck, I need another pill.
Something else I don’t appreciate a sudden need to have more of.
“Mr. Draak-”
“Please, save your beautiful voice, Miss Pennington,” Ptur commands while sliding a Bluetooth device onto his ear. “This being—like the one across the room back there that’s missing a face—was sent here to kill me or—at the very least—kidnap me. However, I need answers that I have a gut-feeling she has; therefore, I will be tying her up, having security assist in transferring her to a secure interrogation facility, and seeking information that is—to be quite Frank—life and actual fucking death. I don’t buy this whole ‘she’s my missing mother’ charade for a single second, but I really don’t have fucking time to get into that shit before the paralyzing agent wears off. I understand that this is not what you imagined dealing with when you walked into my office this morning, but to be honest, this wasn’t something I anticipated, either, and I’m doing the best I fucking can to manage it. So, you can either silently stand there while I make a few phone calls to try to contain this shitshow before it gets significantly worse and more lives can be lost, or you can assist in the securing of this dangerous being who I will happily let you get all five w’s from once I’m finished grilling her for mine.”
His straightforward speech is actually one I appreciate.
I live so much of life tiptoeing under and around red tape bullshit from the words I can use to body language I can have that having someone not pull a punch is quite refreshing.
And truthfully…a little sexy.
Which is not how I need to be thinking of the gorgeous man who’s claiming my mother tried to kill him.
I mean it’s better than trying to fuck him but not by much.
“Those are your two options, Miss Pennington,” Ptur calmly indicates while collecting the rope. “I will respect whichever one you choose.”
Help.
Whether it’s the crisp clearness of the voice in my head I need to be muting or some other inexplicable instinct that drives me to aid in the process is unclear.
And verbally communicating the choice is unlikely.
I simply nod in acknowledgement of his statement and unbutton as well as shrug off my suit jacket. After tossing it over the nearby plush platinum chair that somehow remained unscathed in their supposed showdown, I strut over to where he’s lowering himself beside her.
The instant I’m on my knees, too, I extend an open palm to which he balks at. “That…Thatcantbefuckingpossible.”
Annoyance in the form of another heavy sigh is showcased. “Excuse me?”
“That uh…,” his hand frantically stabs the air near my wrist, “has that…,” more frenetic poking, “…tattoo?”
My eyes drop to the space he’s currently scrutinizing and am shocked to see something that wasn’t there this morning.
Or even twenty minutes ago before I walked into this office.
How the fuck did I get a dragon-shaped tattoo on me?!
Wait, am I hallucinating again?
And if I’m hallucinating this shit then how come he can see it, too?
That’s not how these types of delusions work.
At least I don’t think it is.
I lift my worried green gaze back to his at the same time he coherently asks, “Have you always had that there?” The slow shaking of my head causes his to fall forward on a defeated, “Fuck.”
Why do I get the feeling I should be saying that shit myself?
And more importantly, why do I get the feeling that whatever’s happening is something that my “Keep Calm and Carry On” pills can’t protect me from?
Ptur
Thank The Great Ones this hell beast didn’t wake up until we had already placed her in the containment facility.
However, fuck them for thinking now is the time to add more Sleepers into the clusterfuck we are currently calling our lives.
Mate.
Sleeper.
Mate.
Sleeper.
Mate!
No. I refuse to fucking call her that.
Mark.
Mistake.
No.
Look, mistakes happen. How else do you explain shit like the platypus?
Meant.
Platypuses were meant to happen or are you trying to say that the mark was meant to happen?
Mark.
I reject your assessment.
Mate.
I refuse to fucking believe that the curvaceous creature beside me that has her tits practically pouring out of a black corset top I know is a violation against subsection E of our current dress code policies is meant to be my Fated Mate.
Our.
Get fucked, Platinum.
Rage-filled roars come barreling out of the statuesque warrior as she pounds on the magically reinforced glass wedged between us. Sharp teeth are shown while even sharper nails are clawed against the surface, stopping her from ripping me to shreds like she’s screaming in her native tongue she’s going to do.