Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
“Too much for you.” The banshee looked ready to unleash her most potent death scream. Such an act killed some immortals and gravely injured others.
The harphantom hiked her thumb at him, telling the shoe saleswoman, “I’ll let you squeeze the Astra’s bicep if you give me the boots.”
“Blythe,” he snarled, dismissing the clouds and marching closer. “You cannot—”
“Yes! Deal!” the banshee rushed out. “By the way, I have a strict no refund policy.”
Blythe stuffed her bare feet into the shoes, then had the audacity to wince in his direction. “Sorry, bud, but a deal’s a deal. I believe we discussed the fact that my debts are your debts, so you better pay up. I don’t mean to underhype the issue, but your very honor is at stake.”
He could not allow her to get away with this. He would—
The banshee shot out her hand and, yes, she squeezed his bicep. As his skin prickled with irritation, the touch affecting him like every other throughout the centuries, a dreamy moan slipped from her lips.
“Totally worth it,” she sighed.
With a huff, Roux grabbed both of Blythe’s biceps and flashed her to their bedroom. Near the foot of the bed, to be precise. She’d made him endure the touch of another. Now she must offer her touch in return. Wait until she finished shopping? No longer.
“You owe me,” he said, whipping off his shirt. Excitement replaced his anger. The motionless alevala were ultrasensitive, but nowhere near the cusp of action. Here, now, he warred no longer. He knew what he wanted. “Pay up.”
She glared at him. “Now isn’t a good time.”
“I don’t care.”
For a long while, she said nothing else. Didn’t move. Soon, though, she was panting her breaths. The scent of honeysuckle and roses strengthened, filling his head with all kinds of ideas...
“The five minutes do not begin until at least one of your palms rests on my skin.” He inhaled deep, puffing up his chest. Touch me.
“There isn’t a clock in this realm, and I refuse to touch you a second longer than promised. So how will we know when my five minutes are up?”
“I have an internal clock. I’ll tell you when to stop. If you don’t trust me to be up-front and honest, count down in your head. I don’t care,” he repeated. He inhaled deep again...
“Whatever,” she said, flippant. Finally, blessedly, she did it. She slapped her hand against his pectoral. The vampire’s blood still covered her flesh but it bothered him not a bit. In that moment, nothing bothered him.
Ten seconds passed. Twenty. The softness of her. The delicious heat. The connection.
Forty. Zero irritation occurred. At the one-minute mark, the barest tendrils of pleasure uncoiled, and he stifled a groan. Only iron determination prevented him from clasping her wrist and guiding her fingers elsewhere. Or crowding her onto the mattress.
The thoughts in his head. The things he imagined doing to her, if ever he did get her into bed. So many things. His control wavered. His fingers twitched at his sides. Soon, he wasn’t just panting, he was pant-growling. Muscles hardened. All his muscles. Hunger clawed at his insides. He wanted this female. Needed her. Badly. More than he’d ever needed anything. Roux would commit terrible deeds to strip her.
Reason through this madness? Impossible. He could only peer down at her as she looked anywhere but at him, maintaining a bored expression. And yet, the pulse at the base of her throat hammered rapidly.
A wild thought invaded his head. Did she like the contact, too, despite her feelings for him? That thought spurred another. Something wilder. Did a part of her, possibly, desire him in return?
The clock ran out before he could deduce the answers. Part of him longed to beg for one more minute. Even a second. But she must have kept track of the time, as suggested, because she severed contact before he could make an announcement.
He nearly roared at the loss of the connection.
“All done,” she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder. But she couldn’t hide the trembling in her fingers. “Obviously, you got the better end of our deal. I’ll be in the bathroom, washing off Astra funk. Enter at your own peril.”
* * *
Silvery moonlight filled the bedroom. Blythe lay unnaturally still atop the mattress, too uncomfortable to move. Hours had passed since her hands-on interaction with Roux, but her skin felt far too tight. Her insides ached.
The Astra occupied his chair, per usual, polishing his weapons, watching her with a greater awareness than before. To better guard her, now that she was unchained, yes. But he wanted her, too. There was no mistaking the ferocity and passion he radiated. Not any longer. Not while she felt it, too.
Every so often—like now—she snuck a glance in his direction, unable to help herself. Perfect nocturnal vision displayed every detail of his rough features. The wide brow. The prominent cheekbones. The patrician nose. The strong jaw covered in golden scruff.