Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
She stops just inside the door and takes me in with a long sweep of her gaze. She crosses to the table and grabs the bottle of wine sitting there. “I was wondering about something. You speak English here. That seems odd.”
Guilt pricks me, but there’s no point in avoiding this. It will just be worse in the end. “We don’t.” When she pauses, I force myself to continue. “While you were unconscious, I put a translation spell on you.”
“Put a translation spell on me.”
I swallow hard. “I tattooed it. It’s on the back of your neck.”
Her eyes flash. “I see.” She pours the wine into her glass, filling it nearly to the brim. “I want to go home.”
“That’s not possible.”
She drains half the glass in a single gulp and refills it. “Then I want to know why. You owe me the truth, don’t you think? You lied and manipulated and had me sign a contract under false pretenses that took me away from my life, my friends, my fucking realm, apparently. The very least you can do is tell me why.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. But telling her the truth is going to make things worse. There’s no other option. I watch her lift the wineglass to her ruby lips. “Slow down.”
“I don’t think I will.”
Guilt pricks me, sharp and condemning. “You have a one-drink rule.”
“That was for clients, a group that you no longer belong to. I think you’ll find that, if I can’t control anything else in my life right now, I can control this.” She holds my gaze as she takes another long drink. It’s from one of the cases we imported from the human realm rather than the faerie wine we brew here in this realm, so at least she’s not falling-down drunk after a single glass. Even so, I have no idea how often Eve drank or what her tolerance is. So much in so little time is worrisome.
“Eve.”
“Answer the fucking question!”
I lower the hand I was lifting to grab the wine bottle. “You’re in danger.”
“Danger.” She sneers. “Do better. More details. I know how well you like to talk, Azazel. So talk.”
“Time moves differently in this realm than it does in yours.” I hold up my hand again, this time to forestall more angry words. “I’m answering your question. This context is necessary.”
She pulls out her chair and sinks into it, crossing one leg over the other. “Get to the point.”
“The point is that I’ve been leader of this territory for five years. My predecessor had a markedly different way of doing things; her priority was to gain humans, which resulted in gaining power for our territory. It didn’t matter how bargains were made, only that they were. I put a stop to that when I took over.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Until me.”
Guilt stabs deeper, but I muscle past it. “There are those among my people who aren’t happy with the changes. They think I weakened us, that I’m making the other territories strong at the expense of our own. Caesarea is gone, but many of her supporters remain.” I take a breath. “The primary threat is Brosh. He’s always been vocal in his criticism of me, but he’s decided to take action.”
She blinks. “What does that have to do with me?” Before I have a chance to respond, she makes the leap. “It’s because you’ve been one of my clients. A regular. This Brosh decided to get to you through me.”
It feels like I’m being suffocated. Fuck, I didn’t want to tell her like this. I didn’t want to tell her at all. “Yes. The moment I learned he was in New York, I went to you. To protect you.”
“How does the time difference work with—” She shakes her head. “You know what, I don’t care.”
“You’re safe here, Eve. No one gets into this castle without my permission.”
“I wouldn’t need to be safe if you hadn’t been playing human for years with me.” She glares. “Tell him I mean nothing to you. Tell him it was just business and getting your rocks off. Tell him it’s all bullshit.”
I can’t. “It would be a lie.”
“It would be a lie,” she echoes. “Don’t tell me you fell for your own bullshit. Hooker with a heart of gold, right? That’s the fairy tale. That it’s not a job for me, that I really care about you, that I never once faked it. But you were a damned client and that is my job.”
Each word lashes me. “It doesn’t matter if I’m a job to you, Eve. He knows me well enough to know that I care about you, so he’ll hurt you to punish me. No matter what you feel for me—or don’t—you don’t deserve to be hurt.”
She holds my gaze. “Style yourself my savior in your head, but did you stop to wonder if lying to me, taking me away from everything I’ve ever known . . . might hurt me too?”