Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Ouch. Bigtime rejection. Always unwanted. Why did no one ever see her potential? “First, I’m not wearing the robe. My outfit is perfect. Almost perfect. It lacks bracelets and anklets and rings to match my necklace. Hint, hint. Second, I can’t force a vision.” Not often. “Third, I’m unsure what else I planned to say.”
He gripped the arms of his throne, his knuckles slowly turning white. “Oracle.”
Uh-oh. He was gearing up to dish a power lecture, guaranteed. She rubbed her temples as if she were receiving an incoming telepathic message. “Hold up. My instinct is flaring.”
His breath seemed to hitch.
“Oh, goodness. You’re not going to like this, but you must close your stable. Yes, yes. That’s what I’m sensing. It’s for the good of the mission. If you don’t do it, bad things will happen. Terrible things! The worst.”
His scowl deepened. “You seek to punish me, nothing more.”
Wrong. She’d meant what she’d said. This was for the good of the mission. Her mission. The acquisition of the elixir. Let him continue to harden with thoughts of his precious Lore. At some point, he would desire another outlet. The more he needed sex, the more he might turn to the smoking hot harpy-oracle he claimed he didn’t want.
His torment was a bonus.
As cold as ice, she stated, “Go ahead. Take the chance.”
Several beats passed in terse silence. Finally he stood, waves of tension pulsing from him. He motioned her closer. “I will do as you’ve suggested, but this won’t end well for you. That, I promise.”
7
Everything about the oracle bothered Rathbone. From her stimulating conversations to her unpredictability to the innate sensuality of her movements, to her luscious curves and intoxicating scent. That unique mix of sugared cherries and sweet almonds filled his nose with every inhalation, fogging his head. The fact that she had pulled his attention from his mate added to his irritation greatly. Lore’s lack of appearance didn’t help matters.
Where was she? Shouldn’t a powerful goddess recover her strength quicker?
Did she watch him without his knowledge? Sleep? What, what?
Neeka sauntered over, every step sparking a new fantasy. Taking her against a wall. On the floor. His throne. Lore’s throne. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. What was this oracle doing to him?
“Whatever you’re thinking,” she said, waggling her brows, “I’m a fan.”
“I’m thinking I should’ve hired your mother,” he retorted, offering his hand.
She flinched before accepting, and guilt sparked. When the softness of her skin pressed against his callouses, he nearly drew back. Too good!
He, a mighty king of the Underworld, considered retreat an option?
Grinding his molars, he flashed to his stable. A smaller palace than his own, filled with precious stones, fine tapestries, and hand-carved furnishings. He materialized at the entrance of the indoor pool, where many scantily clad females lounged and chatted. Vampires, shifters of every faction, gorgons, sorceresses, Amazons, banshees, a Phoenix, elves, griffins, and even a centaur. Because why not? No harpies or oracles, though. Not that it mattered. The females came in a variety of different shapes, sizes, and colors.
Incense burned from wall sconces, scenting the air, yet still he smelled only Neeka. He liberated his hand from hers. And not in retreat! They’d reached their destination, that was all. There was no need to maintain contact.
His concubines spotted him, and squeals of delight rang out. Females jumped to their feet and rushed toward him, hoping to be part of the group he took to bed.
“Stay where you are,” he commanded, and they froze midway. He knew Neeka watched his profile, reading his lips. He felt the heat of her gaze. “Until further notice, I won’t be visiting you. Unless I decide to kill my oracle for failure to keep her end of our bargain. If that’s the case, I’ll return tomorrow.”
Unabashed, Neeka waved. “Hi. I’m his oracle. What he meant to say was this. Congrats! You’ve shed two hundred and fifty pounds of unfaithfulness. Go enjoy happy lives.”
Rathbone popped his jaw.
An assortment of reactions came forth, but no one dared utter a word of complaint. He paid them too well.
Neeka fixed her attention on him. “Quick question for the good of the mission, so you can’t refuse to answer. Is this how you treat everyone you bed, including Lore? All ferocious and demanding and such?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t not like this.” Why?
“Stay where you are,” she mocked, flexing her biceps. “Dude. You’re losing cool points by the bucketload.”
He lifted his chin. “Lore enjoyed it.” Like the concubines, she’d never complained. Had only ever praised him for his strength. Exactly what he expected from his mate.
“By. The. Bucketload,” Neeka repeated with a shake of her head. “No consort of mine is ordering me around, especially while he’s banging other chicks. I’ll be his one and only, and he’ll be mine, and that’s that.”